


The Ways They Fuck

by iridescentAI



Series: The Space Between [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Body Swap, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hand & Finger Kink, Kinda, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, blink and you'll miss it sir kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2021-04-14
Packaged: 2021-04-22 08:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentAI/pseuds/iridescentAI
Summary: Literally what the title says. Four times the threesome fucked in four different ways.Chapters are tagged more in depth in the notes so as to not clog up the work tags with useless details :)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Space Between [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500899
Comments: 117
Kudos: 334





	1. the time Felix was gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, when i google MMF threesomes for position names, why is it all about the woman pleasuring the two men. LET. GUYS. GET. FUCKED. thank you.
> 
> Tags: truth spell, Felix has to tell the truth, sorta exhibitionism, oblivious Caspar, hand and finger kink, Felix fucks, Felix gets fucked, Annette means well, face-sitting

How it all came about was quite funny, actually -- to everyone _but_ Felix, that is.

He’d been patrolling the mountains that separated Garreg Mach and Kingdom territory under the claim that he was keeping his sword sharp -- _not_ keeping an eye on Dimitri, who’d insisted a squad be sent out over that particular stretch of land. 

They’d been ambushed by Kingdom mages -- one of Cornelia’s units, probably -- and spent precious few minutes scrambling to regain their footing amongst the chaos of glowing runes and magical projectiles. Thanks to a few well-placed arrows from Shamir, the patrol quickly turned the tides and came out on top with minimal losses. 

Upon their return to Garreg Mach, Dimitri demands an audience with Byleth, crowing spies and treachery after a close run-in with Kingdom traitors. Though weary of the dethroned king’s paranoid ramblings, Byleth humors the haunted man, taking in every word he has to say with a carefully crafted look of detached contemplation.

“I’m telling you, Professor, if we allow these Kingdom _snakes_ to twine beneath our feet much longer, they _will_ trip us up.” Dimitri insists, his one visible blue eye full of righteous indignation. “Their spies could be any among us. No one can be trusted --”

“Oh _shut up_, boar,” Felix cuts in, uttering his first words since he’d posted himself on the outskirts of their conversation, carefully positioned in Dimitri’s blindspot. “You truly believe your closest comrades would betray you for shits and giggles? This war isn’t about _you_, boar. It’s about the fate of Fodland itself.”

By the set of Dimitri’s teeth, Byleth knew a storm was coming. She opened her mouth to speak, to calm, to do _anything_ before the two launched themselves at each other, but Dimitri beats her to it. 

“Perhaps I should turn my suspicions to _you_ first, Fraldarius,” the boar king (prince? he’d never rightly been crowned, thanks to Cordelia’s coup) growled, turning just enough to settle an icy blue glare at the swordsman over one broad shoulder. “It’s clear you hold no concern for the possibility of your king’s death.” 

Byleth’s ready for Felix’s face to twist up, to do that thing he does when he’s holding back the words he truly wants to say -- he _always_ makes that face around Dimitri, especially nowadays, especially now that Dimitri’s convinced himself he’s unlovable and unsalvageable.

“You’re a fool.” 

Both Dimitri and Byleth freeze in place, equally as surprised by the passion in Felix’s voice. 

“Why do you think I took this fucking mission? So I could swing my sword at whoever we _happened_ across in those barren mountains? You and I both know the mages were a chance encounter. There was no reason for me to come along, no reason at all.” The swordsman insists, clearly livid. “At least, there wouldn’t be if I didn’t think that every time you step out on the battlefield, you’re looking for ways to get yourself _killed_.” Felix spits, venom in his tone and in his eyes, the words rushing out of him like he can’t get them out fast enough. 

“Felix,” it’s a warning, low and gravelly from Dimitri’s throat, but Felix shows no signs of stopping.

“I’m not letting you _die_ out there just because you think you deserve it.” The swordsman informs him, glaring with twin points of flame and fire. “You act like I don’t give a fuck about whether you live or not, but -- as much as I try to convince myself otherwise -- you’re _wrong_, Dimitri. You’re not just my king, you’re my fr-”

Felix claps his hands over his mouth, vermillion eyes blown wide with the same shock that widens azure blue. 

“Felix, I thought --” 

Dimitri only gets those three words out before Felix turns on his heel and _runs_. 

\---

Byleth finds out later, in the dining hall, that Felix has been struck by a truth spell. 

“Well, that’s not the actual intention of the spell,” Lysithea muses, spooning sorbet into her mouth between words. “Really, he’s suffering the side effects. He must’ve been close by when the original spell struck, and the residual energy --”

“Long story short, Felix can’t tell a lie.” Annette cuts in, a grin as bright as the sun cutting across her face. “And _let me tell you_, it is a _joy_ to talk to him like this. You should visit him where he’s holed up in his room!” She encourages her professor, grinning like a maniac. “He told me I don’t annoy him! That he likes having me around! He admitted I’m cute!” Annette cheers, dancing in her seat, cheeks rosy with triumph. 

“I’d always suspected,” Sylvain mumbles, mostly to himself where he’s sitting a couple seats down the table -- but Byleth hears it nonetheless. 

“He didn’t deny liking the cake I brought him a couple weeks ago.” Lysithea adds, trying to sound nonchalant, despite the pride gleaming in her eyes. “_And_ he said he’d enjoy it very much if I brought him more.” 

“Oh,” Caspar butts in, sliding into the seat next to Annette. “Is that why Felix complimented me on the training grounds today? I just thought I’d hit him too hard or something.” 

Annette finds this very funny. Byleth hides her smile in another bite of food. 

“I like this Felix!” Annette declares, punching the air in triumph -- and nearly knocking Marianne’s tray out of her hands. “I want to ask him more questions and see what lies beneath that spiky outer shell!”

“Leave him alone, for now.” Byleth interjects before the mage gets too carried away. “You know Felix well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention. He might never forgive you for cutting him open and putting him on display like that.” 

Sylvain hides a laugh behind his hand -- and Caspar looks legitimately concerned at the possibility -- but Annette just raises a hand to her mouth, eyebrows winging high above wide eyes. 

“Oh! You’re right, professor!” She exclaims, looking thoroughly chastised even though Byleth hasn’t technically told her she’s in the wrong. “My Hanneman side must’ve come out without me noticing. At least I didn’t start planning a research project before you stopped me!” She giggles, amused with herself. 

Byleth doesn’t hide her smile, this time. 

(And when she glances over to Sylvain, she finds him smiling too.)

\---

“No.” 

“Oh, _c’mon_, Fee, we just wanna talk!” Sylvain croons, leaning against Felix’s bedroom door. “We wanted to see how you’re doing after that scary battle!”

“I’m fine.” Felix’s voice filters through the thick wooden door. Then, almost as if he can’t help the afterthought, he adds, “It wasn’t scary.”

“You’ve been gone for a week, Felix,” Byleth adds, going for as sweet of a tone as she can muster. “I missed you.” 

Almost immediately, the door whips open and Sylvain tumbles inside, knocking Felix to the ground. Felix ignores the tumble, pushing himself upright with flushed cheeks and eyebrows drawn tight. 

“Anyone can hear you, out there!” He hisses, pushing Sylvain off of him. “Quiet down!”

Byleth locks eyes with the swordsman on the ground in front of her, holding his gaze as she steps into his room and shuts the door behind her. She only looks away to follow the bob of his throat when the lock clicks into place beneath her fingers. 

Sylvain scoots back to Felix’s side, curling around him until he’s tucked neatly against the line of his body. “Did you miss us, Fee? Huh? Was it a hard few days without us?”

Leanly muscled arms twitch, perhaps to cover his mouth before anything incriminating can escape, but Felix quickly finds that his arms are pinned beneath the weight of Sylvain’s body -- and soon after by Byleth’s weight when she crouches to join their pile.

“It’s nice waking up to a warm bed.” The confession comes slow, like he’s just waking up to the realization. 

“Sure,” Sylvain agrees, brushing strands of hair away from Felix’s forehead. “But did you _miss_ us?” 

“_Yes,_” Felix hisses, as if the confession has been torn from his lungs. “Fuck you.” He tacks an insult onto the end, seething with rage. 

They’re quiet, still, for a moment more before Felix twitches violently in place. 

“I want to kiss you.” He says to no one in particular, staring at the ground with red red red cheeks. 

“Who?” Byleth murmurs against his hairline, stroking over the shell of his ear with her thumb. The only response she receives is a shrug, and her lips turn up in a sharp grin. “You want to _be_ kissed.” She corrects him, kissing his temple to punctuate her sentence. 

“Yes,” Felix agrees through gritted teeth. “I missed you. Kiss me.” He demands shortly afterwards, weaponizing his weakness -- in true Felix fashion. 

Sylvain surges forwards like he’s been _starving _for it, hungrily licking at Felix’s lips until he opens underneath him, devouring every inch he’s given and more. Byleth traces their jaws as they work at each other, traces the seam of their lips where they connect and break apart, traces the dimple in Sylvain’s cheek, the scar that cuts across Felix’s eyebrow. 

When they break apart, Felix breathes _missed you_ against kiss-reddened lips. Sylvain just nods before planting a steadfast, final kiss against the shorter man’s mouth. 

“My turn.” Byleth announces.

  
“Your turn,” Felix agrees, leaning into her before she even bends to meet him. 

She fights with him for a moment, tongues slipping, slippery sliding against each other until he surprises her and pushes back into her mouth, claiming control over their encounter. His hands cup her cheeks while he licks into her mouth, pushing against her tongue with his and tracing over her teeth, retreating only to nip at her lips and demand more kisses more kisses _more_. 

_Missed you too,_ ghosts across her cheek when Felix pulls away and plants sloppy kisses from the corner of her mouth to her ear. 

“I wanna get you in bed, Felix. Can we lie on your bed instead of the ground? Is that alright?” Sylvain murmurs into Felix’s hair, fingers playing with the ties of his shirt. Felix nods nods and nods again, _yes, yes that’s fine, take me to bed_, ringing in Byleth’s ear between puffs of breath. 

Byleth leans back, releasing the arm she’d had pinned beneath her, and after Sylvain stands, he offers a hand to each of them and hauls them to their feet as well. 

It’s only a couple steps to the bed -- and Sylvain already has his pants off -- but Felix hesitates after he stands, eyeing the door to his bedroom. 

“Lots of people have been coming by today,” he announces slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets and fiddling with the lint he finds there. “You’re not worried about… about…” 

Byleth can fill in the end of the sentence for him. 

_You’re not worried about someone hearing? Someone finding out? _

“I can stay quiet.” Byleth assures him -- because telling him not to worry about someone stopping by won’t assuage his fears much at all. “Can you?”

Felix merely shrugs -- which Byleth finds endearing, knowing it’s the truth. Of the three of them, Felix is the loudest, but only under certain circumstances. 

This… might be one of them. 

“C’mere,” Sylvain beckons the two of them to Felix’s bed, already lounging atop the sheets. “I’m getting cold.” 

“_You_ took off your clothes,” Felix mutters -- but he trudges to the bed nonetheless, Byleth close behind. 

Felix discards his coat and shoes, following Sylvain’s example as he prepares to get comfortable on the bed. Byleth lets her armor clatter to the ground next to her boots and folds her coat over the chair by Felix’s desk. 

She’s surprised when Felix settles against Sylvain's chest and beckons her forwards, essentially trapping him in the middle. His temperament and training made him more of an “easy access, quick escape,” kind of cuddler, always prepared to attack (or retreat). 

But not today.

They merely cuddle for a long while, Felix pressed in between Sylvain’s warm like a furnace body and Byleth’s pleasant mix of soft curves and lean muscle. 

The swordsman tosses and turns for a while, grumbling and rearranging them until he’s comfortable, finally resting his head on the pillow of Byleth’s chest and slinging one of Sylvain’s arms over his shoulders. The barest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Sylvain’s mouth before he tucks his face in Felix’s neck, settling in with a sigh. 

It’s there, twisted in the arms of the people that mean the most to her, that Byleth loses track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes, _hours_, that she laid there running her fingers through Felix’s hair, that Sylvain rubbed soothing circles into the small of her back with large, warm hands, that Felix laid still between them, content to bask in their presences for once instead of go go go. 

She’s not sure how long she got to appreciate the moment of peace before Felix began squirming again. 

“Uncomfortable?” Sylvain murmurs into the back of the shorter man’s neck. “I can move-”

“No,” Felix interrupts him, twisting his fingers into fists around Byleth’s blouse. “No, you’re fine where you are, I’m just…” 

He ducks down and buries his face in Byleth’s chest again to muffle the next words that come from his mouth. 

Between them, the swordsman wiggles again -- and the movement seems uncomfortable, as if he’s trying to get away, until Byleth realizes all at once that he’s _not._

He’s not looking for escape, not judging by the stiff heat that grazes her thigh. He’s looking for _relief_. 

“You’re…?” Sylvain prompts, waiting for clarification still. (He can’t feel Felix’s erection.)

Byleth tightens her grip on the hair between her fingers and _tugs_, pulling Felix’s head up and away from the muffled safety of her breasts. 

“I’m _pent up_,” Felix all but moans, glaring at Byleth beneath thick black lashes. “I’ve been away. Missed you.” 

There’s a beat of silence, where Byleth doesn’t let go of Felix’s hair, where Sylvain and Byleth exchange sly smiles, and Felix sighs.

“I hate this fucking truth spell.” The swordsman mutters, burrowing back into Byleth’s chest as soon as she lets him go. 

“Is there something in particular that you want?” Byleth prods, hoping for an answer. 

What she gets is a nod. 

It’s a start, at least. 

“Go on,” Sylvain joins in, pressing languid kisses up the slope of Felix’s neck -- exploiting his weak spot. “Tell us what you want, love.” 

Felix groans into Byleth’s chest, the sound reverberating in her ribs, but he lifts his head without her prompting.

Red red red eyes meet hers, half-lidded with wanting, desire, _need_. Long black lashes flutter once before his eyebrows pull tight together, a sure sign Felix is steeling his resolve.

That is, until the tension drains from his expression and he falls back against the bed, the fight seemingly siphoned out of him. He searches between them until he finds Byleth’s hand, loosely tangling his fingers in hers while she strokes his hair, while Sylvain strokes his hip, soothing, comforting. 

_It’s okay to be honest. It’s alright. _

“I want…” he begins slow, then changes his mind, discarding the hesitancy that’s so unlike him. “It’s been a long week. I want to feel you.” 

When no one moves, Felix squirms in place, too impatient to wait. 

“Want--” he huffs, arching to roll his hips into the man behind him. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Sylvain’s responding grin stretches wide, sharp and toothy against Felix’s neck. “Thought you wanted to stay quiet?” He murmurs, smoothing a broad palm down the swordsman’s stomach. 

Felix blushes, hot summer red, a sharp _tch!_ ripping from between his teeth. “Yeah. And I want you to fuck me. Think you can handle that, lover boy?”

Byleth likes the look of Sylvain’s fingers hooked around Felix’s hips, especially when they’re hiking him up and back, the skin around his knuckles blanching white as he grips tight and rolls his hips into Felix’s ass. Felix hums and tips his head back, melting into the contact, and Byleth takes that chance to wedge herself between his chin and his shoulder before the opportunity passes. 

Soon, Felix is biting back pleased moans, rutting against the tent that’s sure to have risen in Sylvain’s smalls, tipping his head back against the redhead’s shoulder so that Byleth’s hot mouth can reach more of the sensitive skin of his neck. 

Byleth slips her hands beneath Felix’s shirt, tracing scars from all kinds of weapons and magicks alike, smoothing over battle-worn skin until Felix twitches under the graze of her fingers over his nipples. After a few pokes, prods, and pinches prompt Felix to stuff his fist in his mouth to muffle the noises that threaten to spill over, Byleth seriously can’t tell whether it’s the sensation or the truth spell that have unlocked Felix’s honest reactions. 

Of course, as is their luck, just as one of Sylvain’s hands begins to smooth down Felix’s stomach, reaching for the waistband of his loose-fitting pants, someone knocks on the door. 

“Hey, Felix, you still hiding in here?”

All three of them freeze in place -- unmoving, silent, as if the door isn’t so thick that Caspar has to yell to make his presence known. 

“Did you wanna spar later today? After I get my assigned duties done for today, I’m free to do whatever.” The brawler’s voice makes it through the wood, boisterous and well-meaning as always, and Felix takes a deep breath, ready to answer the man on the other side of the door.

No words come out of his mouth, though -- probably due to the hand that’s slipped beneath the waistband of his pants. Byleth feels Sylvain’s knuckles against her thigh through Felix’s pants, and the swordsman chokes on whatever he was going to say.

“Felix? Can you hear me?” Caspar knocks again, and Felix yelps -- partly out of fear, partly from the squeeze of Sylvain’s fist around his dick. 

“Yeah! Yeah, I was just… trying to sleep this thing off.” Felix manages to shout back, cheeks flushing red as Sylvain’s fingers coax breathless gasps from his lips. Byleth pitches in with a well-timed squeeze to a stiffened nipple, and Felix shoots her a glare. 

“Right -- the truth spell thing,” Caspar remembers, barely audible as he contemplates to himself. Then, louder, “Is that gonna be a problem? Should we put off sparring until it’s worn off?”

“N- _nnn!_” Felix clearly attempts to assure Caspar that they’ll spar today, but his answer gets cut off by the slide of Sylvain’s palm. 

“Felix? You alright?” 

Ignoring Caspar’s concern, the cavalier settles into a rhythm, curled around Felix, lounging like a lion in the sun, knuckles grazing Byleth’s thigh with every upstroke. 

“Y-yeah! I’m fine. Fine.” To Felix’s credit, he’s doing a good job masking the breathlessness with irritation, slipping into his comfort zone regardless of the hand around his dick. “I don’t think I’m gonna risk anything until this spell’s worn off. Maybe- maybe tomorrow, Caspar.” 

Caspar seems disappointed but understanding, and he bids Felix goodbye and good luck without any lingering suspicions.

Which leaves Felix panting in between his lovers, the tension draining from his body as soon as Caspar’s footsteps retreat out of earshot. 

“You’re- you’re the _worst_,” he hisses, hips kicking into Sylvain’s fist. “What if he had- had _heard_ something?!” 

“Caspar?” Byleth murmurs from beneath Felix’s chin, amused. “Notice something that’s not a fight?”

“We could fuck in front of him and he’d probably think you were practicing a new form of wrestling.” Sylvain pitches in with a terrible smile, grazing a kiss that’s more teeth than lip over Felix’s cheek. 

It takes Felix a few moments to settle down from the interruption, to calm the frantic dart of crimson eyes, to return his attention wholly to the hand moving between his legs. But as soon as the tension drains out of his limbs, as soon as his head lolls back into the cradle of Sylvain’s shoulder, his two lovers jump to attention once more. 

“Byleth, dear, would you fetch me the oil from Felix’s bedside drawer?” Sylvain calls, smiling sweetly over the curve of Felix’s ear. Though wiggling free of Felix’s hold on her is a little difficult, the professor is quick to comply, rummaging through the drawer until she finds the vial she’s looking for. 

When she settles back onto the bed, strong hands grab hold of her biceps and tug, demanding she return to her previous place tucked into Felix’s arms. 

“Is Sylvain taking good care of you?” Byleth murmurs against kiss-swollen lips. Felix merely nods, thighs twitching, hips jumping while Sylvain works another finger into him. “Do you need anything from me?” She follows up, brushing wayward strands of midnight blue out of his face. 

Scarred fingers tighten around hers, and Felix’s head tips back as he groans. 

“Professor,” Felix’s voice seems far away, red eyes hazy while Sylvain works his pants off of his hips, exposing bare skin to cool air. He can’t hold her gaze when he finally mumbles, “Stay close to me.”

It’s such a simple request, but it strikes something in her heart -- something she’s been pushing down and ignoring, waiting to address another time. 

_Stay close to me. Don’t leave me. Not again. _

_Don’t disappear on me. Don’t go._

At some point, she’s going to have to explain to them why she dropped off the face of the earth for five years. It’s not going to be a simple story. She’s going to have to start from the beginning. She’s going to have to tell them everything. 

And she’s… not ready for that. Yet.

She can’t bring herself to unearth the ancient secrets (literally) lodged in her chest quite yet.

But she can loop scarred fingers into her own, she can twist her legs into the pile in the middle of the bed, she _can_ tug Felix’s hand to her lips and press kisses to his knuckles while he pants and writhes and groans between them.

Eyes carefully fixed on high cheekbones, Byleth watches Felix _closely_ when she presses a kiss to the pads of his fingers.

Those cheeks flush red, red to match the eyes that dart to hers, watching her just as carefully -- and he cannot hide the shiver that rolls down his spine when she drags her tongue over the callouses of his palm.

Byleth has always _suspected_ he has a thing for this, but it’s never been _confirmed_. 

“_A swordsman treasures his hands. You knew that already, I’m sure.”_

Remembering that tidbit from one of their teatimes is what prompts her to draw two fingers into her mouth and _suck_, curling her tongue around the digits in search of whatever reactions she can pull from her uptight swordsman. 

“_Byleth,_ ” Felix whines -- Felix _whines_, pleading with her to… to stop? to keep going? to -- “Byleth, you _know_ that I -- _mmm,_” 

Byleth does _not _know, and she makes sure to convey this with an eyebrow quirked in his direction -- and a cheeky suck on the fingers curled in her mouth. 

“Know what?” Sylvain asks what Byleth cannot (as soon as he finishes sucking yet another mark against’s Felix’s shoulders). 

Felix shudders, bucks heavy into Sylvain’s hand, and squeezes his eyes shut before answering. “She- you _know_ that I- that I _like that!_” 

Slowly, sinfully slowly, Byleth pulls scarred fingers from between her lips. Vermillion eyes hover over the saliva that connects her to his fingers until it snaps, then wanders back to the slick shine of her mouth. 

“And?” She hums, languidly licking her lips.

Felix doesn’t even hesitate before requesting she do it again. 

It is positively _delightful_ to watch Felix’s eyes roll back every time Sylvain grazes his prostate, every time Byleth licks and sucks and kisses at his hands. And when Sylvain finally slicks himself up with a couple pumps of an oil-slicked fist and eases Felix back into his lap, the swordsman goes boneless, lying limp between them. 

“You feel so nice,” Sylvain breathes as he bottoms out, a warm gust in the cool room. “I could stay here forever, buried in you.” 

Felix frowns, but he doesn’t argue the fantasy. 

He does, however, pull his fingers from Byleth’s mouth and tug at her shorts, a silent (and familiar) command to remove them. 

“Professor,” Felix still seems far-off, voice far away, but his fingers are insistent against her hips, against her thighs, searching for something. “Can you- would you,” he babbles incoherently, tugging on her as if he wants her closer than they already are. 

“I don’t know what you want,” Byleth admits, stroking over a flushed cheek. Sylvain stays still, watching the scene in front of him unfold with something like curiosity playing over his features, and it seems to let Felix gather his thoughts a little before he attempts to speak again. 

“I want,” he pants, squeezing her hips, “I want to be inside you.” He finally manages, despite dropping his chin to his chest to pant. “I want you close to me. I want both of you close to me. After a week with the boar, I --”

He silences himself with a hand over his mouth, whatever he was about to admit apparently too embarrassing to let slip.

His rebellion doesn’t last very long, though -- not when he’s as hard as steel and dripping like a faucet, not while Byleth parts muscular thighs and nudges the head of his cock against her entrance. He drops his hand from his mouth to take hold of Byleth’s hips again, pulling her forward while his hips kick into her, rocking in little thrusts until she lies flush against him. 

Byleth wonders if they’d be able to convince him to do this more often. 

Felix looks so _relaxed_, so at peace where he’s pinned between them, buried to the hilt within Byleth and filled to the brim by Sylvain, legs and arms hopelessly entangled in the pile they’ve made on the bed. 

“You were saying…?” Sylvain’s voice is sugar sweet, as sweet as the little touches he trails over Felix’s chest, as sweet as the way he guides battle-scarred hands to Byleth’s breasts, squeezing once before leaving the swordsman to his own devices. “After a week with his highness…?”

The little grunt that comes out of Felix’s mouth is supposed to sound put-upon, as if he’s being coerced into answering (which he _is,_ but still), but he lifts his chin, snags two sets of eyes with the movement, and pulls his lovers to face his burning stare. 

“Remind me who I belong to.” 

A chuckle bursts out of Sylvain, low and amused -- and somewhat threatening -- as he pulls back, withdrawing from the tight clutch of Felix’s heat. 

“I could’ve sworn you wanted to stay quiet,” the cavalier rumbles -- and Felix damn near _howls_ when Sylvain snaps his hips back into him. “I could’ve _sworn_,” Sylvain growls, setting up a pace so sharp and quick that the bed begins to creak beneath them, “that you wanted to stay quiet.” 

“I _diiid,_” Felix whines around the vowel, shaking at the force of Sylvain’s thrusts and beginning to kick into Byleth’s heat in response. Clearly, the dual stimulation overrides his better judgment, because he can’t seem to control the noises pouring from his throat. 

“You did?” Byleth inquires, threading her fingers into ink-black hair. “Past tense?”

Beyond caring, Felix nods fervently, fingers flexing against the give of her breasts. “I’ve- I’ve found something I’m a little m-more -- _ah!_ \-- invested in.” 

Byleth’s lips twitch up into the smallest smile, peach pink amusement. She gets enough leverage on Felix’s shoulders to sling her leg up over his hip, over Sylvain’s, toes curling to press into the meat of powerful thighs. 

Briefly, it occurs to her that Sylvain is a cavalry unit. _He’s certainly a pro at riding, isn’t he?_

She curls her leg tighter around the two of them, encouraging Sylvain to buck harder against the curve of Felix’s ass. 

She hopes the message is clear.

_Giddy up._

Sylvain picks up the pace, as she’d hoped, the curve of his lips dangerous against Felix’s neck. His large hands spread wide over the swordsman’s stomach, trailing reverent and greedy over Byleth’s body as well. 

The pitch of Felix’s moans soars in response to Sylvain’s change of speed, a sure sign that he’s close to plummeting off the edge they’ve pushed him to. He tries to muffle the needy sounds against the pillow of Byleth’s chest, mumbling curses and praises into her skin while he mouths hot and wet against the buds hardening under his tongue. It doesn’t do much except send shivers down their professor’s spine, curl her leg tighter around her two lovers. 

“_Fuck!_ ” Felix yelps, out of the blue, digging his fingernails into Byleth’s back. “F-fuck- _fuck_, _shit_-”

“Oh! Felix, are you alright?” 

The three of them freeze.

Well, Felix freezes. Byleth stills, relaxes into the circle of her swordsman’s arms. Sylvain jackhammers into Felix a couple more times before slowing at a steady pace, cock dragging heavy against the slick clench of Felix’s surprise. 

“Felix? Did you knock yourself out? Do you need help??” A sweet voice calls in, clearly Annette’s concern. 

The doorknob jiggles, and Felix’s eyes fly open wide. “No! _No_, I’m _fine_, I’m f-_fuck_-” 

His head falls back onto Sylvain’s shoulder, mouth falling open as he pants heavy into air weighed down by too many desires. 

“I had just one more question, if you have time?” Annette wonders, something of a teasing tone laced into her request.

The redhead curled around him growls low into the baby hairs at the base of his skull, teeth flashing as he scrapes canines against sensitive skin. “You like Annette, don’t you Felix?” Sylvain hums, nuzzling against Felix’s neck before adding, “Answer her.” 

Felix swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to gather himself before answering his unexpected visitor, but a searing tongue against the side of his neck stops him in his tracks.

“_Byleth_,” Felix hisses, low enough that Annette won’t hear. “ _Please_-”

Byleth merely smiles up at him from where she rests against his collarbone, stroking soothingly down the side of his face. “Just reminding you who you _belong_ to.” 

Her smile is pleasant, but her tone matches Sylvain’s predatory grin, matches the sadistic kick of ruddy hips against pale skin. Felix’s face flushes red red red, blushing as red as his desire darkened eyes when she clenches tight around him, her inner muscles rippling deliciously against the steely length buried within her heat. 

He nods slowly, chokes on a groan, and turns his gaze back to the door between their dirty little secret and the curious approacher outside. 

“I’m actually in the middle of something right now,” Felix speaks up, voice surprisingly steady after he clears his throat. “Check back tomorrow.” 

Annette makes a quiet sound of defeat, turned down, and Sylvain snickers, mouthing “middle of something” into Felix’s neck before he drives directly into the swordsman’s prostate. 

“Oh! If it’s Professor Hanneman’s magic readings, I can help with those! I know Professor Byleth wanted you to have them read by tomorrow- if you’re having trouble with them, I can explain them a little,” Annette rambles, as sweet and well-meaning as ever, 

“Yes, Felix, how are those coming along?” Byleth wonders under her breath, swiping her thumb over an abused nipple. Felix shoots her a glare -- but the threat of it is kind of ruined by the flush creeping down his neck. 

“No, Annette, I’m-” he chokes on his words, tensing up between his two lovers. “I’m busy with _someone._”

“Huh?” The mage outside his door calls. “What was that?”

Felix doesn’t hear her either.

He’s busy arching into Sylvain’s hands, clenching tight around his cock, hips shaking, stuttering, wildly out of sync while he alternates between being penetrated and penetrating, demanding every drop of pleasure this orgasm will give him.

He’s busy clawing at Byleth’s shoulders, desperately trying to anchor himself, jolting with every pinch and kiss and bite and lick. 

He’s busy moaning into Byleth’s mouth, pleased cries muffled by the lips that suck hungrily against his, uncaring of the ears that might be listening in.

“Oh- _oh!_” Annette yelps, clearly understanding just _what_ Felix is busy with at the moment. “Goddess above- I’m so sorry, Felix!”

Her retreating footsteps are so animated with panic that they reverberate even through the thick wooden door.

_Finally._

Between them, Felix is all but a limp pile of sated swordsman, pliant in their arms. Sylvain’s hips still drive into his, and it shakes him this way and that, ink-black hair tumbling over flushed cheekbones while his cavalier chases his release.

“Fuck, Fee- _fuck_, Fee,” Sylvain mumbles, face buried in the nape of Felix’s neck. “That was so hot -- you’re _so hot_,” 

“I’m going to regret that.” Is Felix’s only reply, tone a little wobbly while Sylvain pushes him into oversensitivity, but as grumpy as ever.

It doesn’t take much longer for the redhead to reach his limit, and while he grumbles and clutches at narrow hips, breath hissing between his teeth while he comes, Felix helps Byleth slide off of his softening dick. 

“You didn't come,” Felix notes, watching pearly white cum drip down Byleth’s thighs. 

“But you did,” is Byleth’s unconcerned reply, expression unreadable while she stems the flow with a handkerchief from Felix’s bedside table. When Sylvain pulls out, she offers one to him as well, but the cavalier is quickly distracted by rose pink cheeks and the clench of Felix’s asshole around the seed he’d spent inside him. Thick fingers tease and pull at his rim, delight sparkling in amber eyes at the sight. 

Their professor bites back a smile when Felix makes an offended noise, clearly overstimulated and _not_ happy about Sylvain’s fixation on his ass. 

When Sylvain finally takes the kerchief and finishes what he started, Felix finally relaxes into the bedsheets, clean and spent. 

“Do you want to rest now?” Byleth queries, thumbing stray strands of hair away from vermillion eyes and parted lips. “We can stay or we can go, whatever you want.” 

Felix sits up a little, leaning back onto his elbows, and surprises her with a frown. 

“I don’t want to rest.” He informs her. “Not yet.” 

Byleth’s eyes narrow, just the tiniest bit, trying to decipher _what that means_, but Felix (or the truth spell) beats her to it.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He decides. 

Byleth blinks, stunned into silence, but Sylvain bursts into delighted giggles. 

“Have you ever had _anyone _sit on your face?” He demands, pinching Felix’s cheek. 

The deep V of Felix’s eyebrows and the returning pink blush tells them the answer is _no_.

“You’ll just have to guide me. You’re the expert, right?” Felix shoots back, the venom in his tone hoping to conceal the uncertainty in his eyes. 

Sylvain merely smiles, soft and sweet. “Of course I’ll help you, Fee.” 

Felix doesn’t like sweets.

But, as Sylvain helps Byleth climb on top of the shorter man, her strong thighs parted on either side of his head, sweet words guiding his hands and his mouth, large hands giving him quite the show while they grope and grab at Byleth’s perfect tits,

Honestly, Felix can’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> felixfelixfelixfelixfelixfelix aaaaaa
> 
> my plan for this is to go Gentle Felix, Rough Felix, Gentle Sylvain, Rough Sylvain, perhaps not in that exact order, with tropes for each scenario. This one was Truth Serum, I'm thinking jealousy for another one... you guys have any ideas?? Requests?? 
> 
> Hmu in the comments or my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iridescentai) or my [Tumblr](https://iridescentai.tumblr.com)!!


	2. the time Sylvain was forced to stop being a service switch for more than four seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain gets dosed with horny drugs and gets left in the hands of their most capable professor: Byleth. Of course, Felix stops by to check on his idiot friend, and gets roped into keeping Sylvain "quiet" while Byleth takes care of him. Shenanigans ensue, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JEEESUS CRISP I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO GET THIS DONE !!!!!! Every time I would open this doc I'd scroll to where I needed to start writing again and I'd go... "nah..." and go do something else. 
> 
> Y'ALL'S COMMENTS AND PRAISE KEEP ME GOING!!!! TYSM!!
> 
> Tags for this chapter: aphrodisiacs, nonconsensual drugging, nothing bad happens to Sylvain don't worry, massages, blowjobs, 69, pegging, bottom sylvain rights, light bondage, face sitting

Here’s the thing.

Despite his reputation, Sylvain has a _lot_ of admirers. It comes with being rich, handsome, and the heir to a major family in Kingdom territory. 

Some people know of his ladykiller reputation and fancy themselves the solution to his womanizing- as if they can _fix_ him, or something. Some people know of his reputation and simply don’t _care_, hoping to take advantage of him and gain from it regardless. 

(Only Sothis knows how many more people would be falling all over him if they knew he was _smart_, too. He keeps up the airhead act for a reason.)

This means that, while there are many women (and men) that turn their noses up and scoff when he passes by, there are also many that rush to him to hang off of his arm, chat his ear off, or shower him in presents and compliments- whatever they think will get his attention the fastest.

And Sylvain is a _gentleman_, so he never shuns the attention of an admirer. 

Which is what gets him in trouble, today.

He’d graciously accepted the little platter of treats that some woman had offered him (her cheeks flaming red and her hands shaking, how adorable), and shared a few with her in the gardens. 

When she inquired into his schedule for the rest of the day, he promptly lied to her face. 

He’d entertain her company for now, but his later moments were to remain private- he’d share those with chosen company, not fill them with forced smiles and fake laughs. 

Apparently, that lie was his saving grace. 

That woman, whoever she was, must’ve drugged the treats with… with _something_. Because he’s stumbling around Garreg Mach as if he’s drunk, and he _definitely_ hasn’t had any alcohol today. 

He’s also _hot_, sweating through his layers of protective armor as he aimlessly wanders. And he’s _horny._ Almost _unbearably_ so. 

Through the fog blanketing his mind, Sylvain supposes that woman must’ve planned to follow him until he collapsed. 

He’s loath to admit that this is not the first time this has happened. 

Knowing his womanizing nature, many a suitor has taken advantage of his flirtatious nature. The intention (he assumes) is to coerce him into sleeping with them in the hopes of bearing a child with the Gautier crest- and therefore a tie to the Gautier inheritance. Sometimes it’s not even about the kid- they just assume he’ll sleep with anyone, consenting or not.

So he’s been in this situation before. 

But… last time this happened, what did he do? His mind is so fuzzy that he can’t quite remember. 

What did he do… what _did _he do… 

“Hey there, Sylvain! How’s it going?”

Sylvain registers the jaunty boom of Raphael’s voice, but the words process too slowly for him to understand what exactly he said. 

Turning to his right, he sees a mountainous figure approaching him with a smile like the sun. After checking in the other direction, Sylvain finds that he has wandered almost all the way to the dining hall- which is probably why he’s come across Raphael. 

“Are you alright?” The brawler’s voice pounds against Sylvain’s senses again, and yellow hair and eyes suddenly take up his entire field of vision as Raphael leans down to check on him. “You’re all red and shaky. You look sick!”

“I,” Sylvain hesitates, tongue too heavy to properly form words. His mind is full of things to say, but they all clash together, just a mess of horny and greatly embarrassing thoughts that he really doesn’t want _Raphael_ to hear. 

Luckily, he never finishes his sentence. His knees give out instead, sending him tumbling to the ground, armor clanking the entire way down. 

Raphael yelps in concern and grabs Sylvain’s arm, catching him before he hits his head on anything, but all Sylvain can do is hang limply in his grip like a doll. 

“I’m gonna take you to the infirmary, okay?” Raphael announces, taking Sylvain’s remaining arm in his giant, beefy hands and pulling the cavalier to his feet. 

_infirmary _

_The usually empty room with a door that can be locked that’s supervised by the oh so responsible and present Professor Manuela_

“No,” Sylvain chokes out, shaking his head as fervently as he can. “Not the infirmary.”

_he shouldn’t be left alone right now. that woman… that woman will find him… _

Raphael shoots him a puzzled look, and Sylvain can barely keep his eyes open while he stares back, trying to stand his ground. Which is… kind of difficult, seeing as he can’t actually _stand_, right now.

“Not safe,” Sylvain adds, hanging limply in Raphael’s grip. 

“...safe?” Raphael echoes, squinting at Sylvain and his very red face. 

“Some lady gave me cake. Now I can’t move. Very hot.” Sylvain tries to explain, letting his head loll against broad shoulders. 

Something like realization dawns in the brawler’s golden eyes- and Sylvain silently thanks Serios and Sothis and all the other saints that the Leicester Alliance brawler isn’t as thick as the Empire’s brawler. 

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Raphael assures him, nodding fervently, reassuringly. “I would’ve fallen for it too. You can’t just pass up good cake.” 

Sylvian tries to nod back, but everything is so _heavy_… 

He barely registers being swung up into Raphael’s arms, barely notices being carried across the courtyards like a princess, doesn’t even hear his armor clanking with every step the brawler takes. 

“I’m taking you to Professor Byleth, okay? She’ll know what to do.” Raphael glances down at Sylvain to check up on him, but all Sylvain can manage in response is a wobbly smile. 

He’s sweating now, cooking in the layers of protective gear he’s wearing. His face must be red enough to match his hair, flushed with embarrassment, heat, and arousal. Not to mention, the aching, straining tent in his pants- and goddessdammit, why did he have to have a proficiency for _horseback_, the one kind of armor that _doesn’t _include a codpiece-

“Professor!” Raphael’s voice pierces through the haze floating around Sylvain’s head. “I need your help!”

There’s some conversation passed back and forth over his head- and Sylvain recognizes the sweet tones of his lovely professor right away. He reaches out towards the blue-green-gray blur of her beautiful figure, and- as if blessed by the goddess herself- his limp form is transferred into Byleth’s strong, capable arms. 

“Professor,” Sylvain slurs, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. 

“You’re burning up,” Byleth notes, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

“Yes, I’m very hot,” Sylvain agrees, dragging a heavy hand down his chest plate. “Whaddya say… you an me… maybe we could…” he’s too dizzy to finish his sentence, tongue too heavy to make out the words he’s trying to say, so he gives up entirely. 

He’s grateful for the way Byleth’s usually hard expression softens in understanding, grateful for the way she shushes him. She smooths his hair back, adjusts her arms around his chest, and tells him not to overexert himself.

“Thank you, Raphael,” the professor’s voice floats back into Sylvain’s ears, solid and warm, reliable and strong, and-

Huh. Odd.

He only rambles sweet words to her when he’s just woken up or on the edge of orgasm. Any other time, it’s purposeful, perfected, putting on a show. He’s _definitely_ woozy if he’s weaving poetry without meaning to. Maybe he’s on the edge of orgasm.

Thankfully, the next thing Sylvain registers is being placed down on a bed. Hands start undoing the straps of his armor- _Byleth’s_ hands, Sylvain realizes- and his chest plate falls into his professor’s arms with a _thump_.

Whether she’s undressing him to help with his body temperature or to start fucking him, Sylvain’s not really sure. And he doesn’t really care, either. He just wants these damned layers off.

Together, they push and pull until Sylvain is totally free of his armor and most of the outermost layers of the clothing beneath. He’s left in his smalls and a white tunic that’s almost soaked through with sweat. Finally free, Sylvain gratefully collapses onto his back, spread-eagle on her bed.

“I heard you ate some cake,” is the first thing Byleth says to him in the following moments. 

“Suitor,” Sylvain tries to explain, “fed me cake. Must’ve- must’ve had some kinda… some kinda…”

“Love potion?” Byleth fills in for him, kneeling beside the bed. She strokes his hair, pushing it off of his sweat-slicked forehead. Sylvain has never loved any woman more.

“Doubt it,” the cavalier wheezes out a laugh, gesturing to the tent in his smalls. “Probably more of an… an… aphro- aphro…”

“Aphrodisiac,” Byleth finishes his sentence, dabbing at his forehead with a spare towel. “Sex potion.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvain agrees, taking in a long breath before letting it out just as slowly. 

Byleth continues to tend to him while all he can do is lay there and squirm a little, his temperature slowly coming down, arousal still going strong. 

“Sorry,” Sylvain hears himself saying. “I’m sorry.” 

Byleth tilts her head, cute little mouth pursed in confusion. “Hmm?”

Sylvain squirms on the bed again, trying to get comfortable despite knowing that he won’t be until this thing wears off. 

“The lady and the cake and- and _this_, I’m… sorry.” He reiterates, looking away from her bright green stare. “If I hadn’t… If I wasn’t… and now I’m…”

Byleth hushes him, hair rustling as she shakes her head. “You can tell me the full story later.” She assures him, gently patting his arm. “It’s no bother for me to take care of you.”

Sylvain groans at that, unsettled by the notion. That’s _his_ job. He’s supposed to provide, to protect, to take care of people when things get tough. He never sits back and watches things unfold. He pushes through when things get tough. That’s his job, that’s _his job,_

“Sylvain,” Byleth murmurs, pushing him back to lie against the bed with a hand on his chest. He hadn't even realized he was trying to sit up. “Relax.”

“I don’t know how,” he admits, sinking into the mattress with a defeated sigh. 

For a moment, Byleth sits completely still. 

Sylvain knows that look- shoulders back, spine straight, a thousand-yard stare in those spring green eyes. That’s the look she gets when she’s considering her options, deciding which path to take when many are split in front of her. On the battlefield, it’s sharper, full of fire, and barely crosses her face for more than a couple seconds. Here, in the privacy of her own space, with Sylvain willing to wait by her side for however long she needs, it’s contemplative, softer, and sticks with her for a few minutes before she comes to a conclusion. 

“I… can show you how,” she finally says. Honey-gold eyes follow her hands as they stroke up and down his biceps, gentle but firm. “I can show you one way. If you’d like.” 

Sylvain tilts his chin up in the most permissive motion he can manage. “By all means.”

It's only after her hands rub circles into the tight muscles of his pectorals that Sylvain realizes two things.

One, she’s giving him a massage.

This first realization is nice. It’s soft and sweet and sits well with him, settling neatly into the jumbled mess of his thoughts. He wouldn't have been surprised if Byleth had pulled off his smalls and brought him to orgasm with her hands and mouth, but the fact that her first inclination to help him relax was something non-sexual is... comforting, somehow.

Two, she’s taken her armor off without him noticing. 

This realization is also _nice_. It means that when Byleth leans over him to rub into the muscles of his other arm, her breasts press soft and heavy against his chest.

_Nice._

Her careful attention to his tense (and admittedly _sore_) muscles take the fire blazing through his veins down a couple notches. It settles him into a floaty sort of middle ground between desperation and euphoria, letting his mind drift off into some fever-dream state while Byleth works his muscles into submission. 

He’s so _gone_ on her ministrations that he doesn’t even hear the knock on the door. What he _does _hear is Byleth’s armor clanking as she redresses. Only then does he realize that her hands have left his body. 

“Professor! I heard something happened to Sylvain, and--”

The man in question gratefully realizes that his head is _much _clearer now, so much so that he can focus completely on the conversation happening at the door. 

“He’s alright, Ingrid.” Byleth promises the flustered woman. “His fever’s finally coming down.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ingrid’s voice filters in through the opening of Byleth’s heavy, wooden door. “I heard that someone fed him something suspicious with some… less than pure intentions.” 

Byleth chuckles at that, and Sylvain pries one of his eyes open in enough time to see her head bob, confirming what Ingrid heard around the monastery. 

“He was given an aphrodisiac,” Byleth tells Ingrid- though Sylvain wished she hadn’t. He’ll never hear the end of it after this. 

Sure enough, Ingrid lights up, spluttering and spitting, equal parts embarrassed and incensed by the information. 

“--and you’re _staying_ with him? You’re keeping him in your _room_ like this? While he’s compromised like that?” Ingrid demands, her voice doing that thing it’s always done, where it pitches higher the more worried she gets. “Look, professor, not to say you couldn’t defend yourself, _or_ to say Sylvain would ever-”

“Ingrid, please,” Byleth waves her concerns off with a laugh, probably patting the woman on the shoulder. “He can barely sit up, much less move around. The intent of this potion was _not_ to encourage Sylvain to be up and moving about.”

After a bit more spluttering and a bit more explaining and a bit more inquiring in on Sylvain’s wellbeing, Ingrid finally relents and backs off, properly convinced that Sylvain is in good hands. 

“I’m glad it’s you that ended up taking care of him,” Ingrid finally admits. “I know you’d never let anything bad happen to him. You’d protect him with your life, if it came down to it.” 

Byleth nods. Sylvain isn’t sure if that sentiment makes him happy or nervous. Maybe both. 

“Plus, of all the people, Sylvain doesn’t have the slightest chance seducing you. For his sake _and_ yours, that makes me feel better.” Ingrid sighs, relieved. “You keep him out of trouble, professor.”

“You think so?” Byleth muses. Sylvain can tell, just by the tone of her voice, that Ingrid’s statement amuses her to no end. 

“Of course, professor,” Ingrid laughs, equally as amused (though probably for different reasons). “The only way to keep Sylvain in line is to ignore him, after all. He’s like a big puppy.” 

The two exchange goodbyes, and the door closes. Sylvain notes that his vision isn’t doubled anymore -- only one Byleth walks towards him where he’s splayed out on the bed. 

She kneels next to the bedside again, shedding her armor and reaching over him to take one of her hands in hers. He didn’t know the muscles of his palms needed to be massaged until now. 

“So,” Sylvain manages to croak, shooting Byleth a wry smile, “not even a chance, huh?” 

The corners of Byleth’s lips turn up, but she doesn’t affirm or deny the statement. She merely climbs onto the bed, sits at his feet, and takes one of his legs in her capable hands.

And if Sylvain thought his _hands_ were tense, then he doesn’t know what his thighs are. 

Considering all the horseback riding, running, jumping, and fighting he does, the best word to describe them would probably be… literal stone. 

Her hands, her palms, her fingers pressed into his muscles -- into skin sparking and smouldering with sensation from the aphrodisiac in his system -- is like literal heaven. He’s moaning like a bitch in heat, squirming under her touch, and he _can’t stop_. 

She’s ruthless, working out every knot she finds with precision, only touching him as much as is necessary. It’s _killing_ him, the way she presses into the insides of his thighs, the way her fingers only skim his skin, tickling more than anything. 

And he’s _hard_.

He has absolutely soaked through his smalls by now, the drip of precum from his straining dick only worsened by Byleth’s touch and whatever the fuck he ate that has injected literal fire into his veins. 

Lost on the floaty feeling of the aphrodisiac and the relief of Byleth’s careful massage, Sylvain barely even notices that he’s rutting into thin air, hips jerking up off the bed in a futile attempt to sate the pulsing pleasure coursing through him. 

It’s only when she lifts her hands with a quiet, “there,” that he regains some semblance of consciousness, plummeting back to earth at the speed of _oof_. 

“Thank you,” he wheezes, the breath knocked out of him by her careful ministrations. Byleth tilts her head towards him, nodding her recognition, but the movement of her head catches the light _just so_, and Sylvain can’t help but notice…

“Professor- is that- are you blushing?” He stammers, surprised by the discovery. Byleth lifts her head enough to look him in the eye, confirming that, yes, she is indeed blushing, and all of the blood left in Sylvain’s body rushes south. 

How on _earth_ does someone so capable and terrifying manage to look so goddess-damned _cute?_

“Ingrid’s understanding of our relationship is far from the mark,” the professor admits, pink-cheeked and bashful like he’s never seen, “You should know that, by now.” 

If he had full control over his body, he’d reach out and kiss her. Unfortunately, he does not. So he just lies there on the bed like a sad sack of potatoes. Baked potatoes. Horny baked potatoes. 

Oh, Sothis help him, he’s getting loopy again. 

“Relaxed at all?” Byleth inquires as she climbs off of the bed. 

Sylvain takes a moment to admire the expanse of her thigh as it flexes over his body. It’s a mistake, because his cock throbs and spurts more precome into his smalls. 

“Definitely helped,” he admits in a small voice, embarrassed by the tremendously obvious tent in his pants. “Still a little tense, as you can see.”

He’s long past hiding his arousal -- Byleth’s seen it plenty of times, with and without the smalls covering it, and he can’t control _this _one at all -- but he feels kinda pathetic lying there, helplessly aroused under her keen verdant gaze. 

The flick of those green eyes down his chest to the growing damp spot on his smalls sends a shudder down his spine. 

_What on earth is she planning?_

\---

When Felix gets the news from Ingrid -- _Sylvain’s been drugged. again. that idiot._\-- he tries not to set off in a sprint towards Byleth’s room. 

Why should he even stop by? It’s not like Byleth needs his help. Ingrid said the aphrodisiac has Sylvain knocked out on their professor’s bed, unmoving, and Byleth can handle Sylvain’s libido on her own. 

It’s not like… It’s not like he _wants_ to join them. They’re at war, after all, he’s got better things to do. He could be sparring, he could be training, he could be sharpening his sword, he could be --

And yet, his thigh-high boots walk him across the monastery, heels clicking on the stone tile as he heads towards Byleth’s door. 

As he approaches, he hears… he hears _something_. The closer he gets to Byleth’s door, the more audible the _something_ is, and… hey… is that Sylvain? 

Is that Sylvain… _moaning?_

Sylvain’s usually pretty vocal, but Felix has _never_ heard him like _this_ \-- reedy and strained, gasping and groaning and _yowling_ in between every sharp, desperate breath,

Okay, he’d _expected_ Byleth and Sylvain to fuck, no matter what Ingrid said about Sylvain’s chances with their professor, but for Sylvain to sound like _this?_ Like something straight out of a wet dream?

Perhaps it’s a good thing Felix stopped by.

With a scowl and a sharp _tsk_, he raps three sharp knocks into the wood of Byleth’s door. 

“It’s the middle of the day, you know. You could keep it down,” Felix shouts, hoping his voice makes it through to the other side. He shifts uncomfortably in place, all too aware of the blood traveling south of his belt as Sylvain’s voice cuts off at the crest of a guttural groan -- probably surprised by the interruption. 

What with how thick Byleth’s door is, Felix can’t decipher much of what’s happening once Sylvain goes silent. He barely hears footsteps before the door is yanked open -- the suddenness of the gesture startles him some, the hand that fists in his collar and _yanks_ startles him even more. 

Sure, he’s combat trained, proficient in brawling, and very _very_ difficult to pin, but when Byleth’s mouth is pressed to his, devouring him like he’s her last meal, it’s a little more difficult to focus on fighting stances and a lot harder to work up the will to push her away. 

But he does. 

“What were you _thinking_, letting him get that loud? Anyone could walk by! Weren’t we keeping this a-” He gets midway through his rant before he’s cut off again, plush lips swallowing the rest of his sentence. 

“It’s Sylvain’s turn to relax,” she informs him between rapid kisses, covering his cheeks and nose with the peck of her lips. “Help me take care of him?”

_As if he needs to think about his answer. C’mon, professor._

“Of course,” Felix murmurs -- quiet enough that the bamboozled Sylvain might miss the words coming out of his mouth.

Pleased, Byleth becomes a whirlwind against him, undoing buckles and unhooking buttons, nipping at his bottom lip and sucking his tongue into her mouth. He yelps when she yanks his coat off of his shoulders, and helplessly repeats the noise when she takes a handful of his hair and pulls his head to the side, exposing his neck. 

_How on earth is he supposed to think like this?_

“Byleth! What- wh-what has gotten into you?” The demand comes out as an undignified squeak when she latches onto the sensitive skin of his throat, sucking and swirling her tongue over his weak spot. 

Byleth only pulls back once she’s sucked a pretty purple mark into sheltered, pale skin, glancing up at him through mint green eyelashes with a coy smile pulling at her kiss-swollen lips.

“Taking a page out of Sylvain’s book,” she murmurs, licking her lips in the most _enticing_ way. Felix can’t help but follow the trail of her tongue as it strokes across that pretty smile. 

“What does _that_ mean?” Felix wonders, one eyebrow arching high above the other. Byleth doesn’t clarify, merely ducks down and presses another sloppy kiss to his throat. 

When her teeth scrape against his adam’s apple, he can't help the whine that wheedles past his lips. She has to be _careful_, there, she _knows_ that’s where he’s most vulnerable, where he’s most sensitive-

“Weren’t you just complaining about the noise?” Byleth teases in tandem with a brief kiss to his lips. 

“I’m not _nearly_ as loud as-” 

Felix realizes, all at once, that he’d come here for a reason. 

“How’s Sylvain?” He chirps, peering over Byleth’s shoulder in search of the ginger cavalier that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. 

“Horny,” Sylvain’s voice helps Felix locate him where he’s sprawled out on the bed. His legs are slung over the edge, and one of his hands is sneaking towards his stomach, where his dick lies heavy and leaking against his abs. 

“No touching,” Byleth snaps -- and Sylvain’s hand falls back to his side. She peers up at Felix again, contemplative, and grins. “Help me shut him up?” 

\---

When Felix’s voice first filtered through Byleth’s door, complaining about the noise, Sylvain cursed his name to all the gods he could think of.

He was _busy_, Felix! _Busy!!_

Busy with his hands in Byleth’s soft hair, helplessly bucking into the heat of her mouth, letting the plush, wet heat of her mouth soothe his desperate arousal into something more manageable. He was busy approaching his first orgasm of this wretched drug; the feeling coils tight in his chest, his stomach, his thighs, the buildup almost as good as the release. 

When Byleth stood up, ignoring Sylvain’s senseless pleading and peeling his hands from her hair, she’d frowned at the floor for a moment -- with that _look_ in her eyes again, like she was walking herself through the next couple moments and everything that might happen. 

After coming to some kind of conclusion, she turned on her heel, threw open the door, yanked Felix inside, and swallowed his complaints with a heady kiss. 

Left there to watch, sprawled out on the bed with nowhere to go, all Sylvain could do was _think_.

He took back what he said about cursing Felix’s name. 

It’s good that he’s here. 

All he could do was think about how nice Felix’s hair looked looped around Byleth’s fingers, or how watching Byleth manhandle Felix was creeping towards the top of his favorite pastimes. Horny and out of control, all he could think about was how desperately he wanted to plunge into _somebody’s_ heat, how desperately he wanted either of his lovers to sink onto his throbbing cock, how _insane_ he was going to go if he didn't fill someone with his load _soon._

Dizzy with need, he reaches for his cock where it lies heavy against his stomach, but almost as soon as he begins to move, Byleth calls him out, demanding his submission. 

His submission. 

He can… he can do that. He can do that, right?

He can let them take care of him -- instead of doing everything himself, focusing on his partner’s pleasure, putting them first and foremost because he can always come later, and “no, it’s alright,” he can handle that himself, and --

“I thought I said no touching,” Byleth intones, suddenly standing by his side. Felix hovers beside her, looking unusually rumpled with his hair and clothes askew, peering down at Sylvain with something like _hunger_ in those warm, vermillion eyes. 

“I can take care of it,” Sylvain croaks in explanation, shooting her a crooked smile even though a voice in his head throws its hands in the air and sighs at his stubbornness. 

“Mm, wrong answer,” Felix chides -- a conclusion only confirmed by Byleth’s sudden disappearance from Sylvain’s line of sight as she drops to her knees and begins to rummage under her bed. 

Sylvain can’t help the moan that escapes him when a shudder of anticipation shakes his frame. There’s _lots_ of stuff under Byleth’s bed, as he’s found out over these past couple months. When she dives under there, it can only mean something good. 

However, he doesn’t have much time to dwell on what she might be looking for, because something _much_ more interesting begins to unfold before his eyes. 

He makes a fuzzy mental note to add _watching Felix strip_ to his favorite pastimes as well.

Byleth had already taken care of the belts and coats, leaving Felix in his shirts, pants and boots -- which he was yanking off of him as if they had personally offended him. First the shirts, the turtleneck, which he untucks it from his pants and pulls it off over his head, peeling it off of his arms… then the boots, unbuckling them from where they gripped his thighs (much like Sylvain planned to do), shaking them off with a scowl as they clung to his heels… then the pants, the easiest part yet, which Felix unbuttons and pushes off his hips alongside his smalls, exposing himself all in one go.

They’ve come a long way from the firsts of their relationship -- the days when Felix would turn around while he undressed, as if they weren’t about to have him underneath or over top of them. He’s grown used to their affection, welcoming their heated gazes instead of shying away. 

And if it wasn’t enough to gaze upon the planes and curves of his lover’s body, Felix clambers onto the bed and climbs over Sylvain -- up up up, until he’s kneeling over the redhead’s face, thickening length in hand.

“You’re too noisy.” Felix informs him. The way his cheeks burn bright red tells Sylvain there’s something else he’s refraining from tacking onto the end of that sentence -- Felix, too proper for his own good -- and Sylvain can’t help but smile dumbly at the implications.

“Gonna shut me up?” Sylvain returns, eyes crinkling as Felix’s face burns hotter. _Bingo_. 

“That’s the plan,” Felix mumbles, eyebrows furrowing above molten eyes. He all but scowls when Sylvain opens his mouth obscenely wide, sticking his tongue out in preparation of pillowing Felix’s dick as it slides past his lips, but Sylvain knows it’s just a front to hide how flustered the swordsman really is. 

Sylvain _loves_ riling Felix up, because it makes him lose a little bit of his white-knuckled control over himself. It makes him do things like sheathe his dick in Sylvain’s mouth without warning, pushing until he’s teasing the back of the redhead’s throat with his head -- threatening, but not following through. 

The moan Sylvain lets out is _obscene_, but it’s properly muffled by Felix’s dick, so he doesn’t have to worry about the noise -- though Felix does echo the sound above him, eyes fluttering shut from the sensation. 

He can’t see Felix’s face, but he knows his eyes have rolled back in his head. It’s easy to tell, based on how badly his thighs are shaking next to his head. 

He knows Felix likes it when Sylvain’s hands cover the breadth of his skin -- “_big hands, big hands, feels so good, Syl,_” he’ll chant, right before he comes. Goddess help him, he can’t stop himself from lifting his arms from his sides and grabbing tight to the lines and muscles of Felix’s thighs, fingers dipping into pale skin, tugging him closer, swallowing heavily around the hot line of Felix’s arousal.

“Sylvain,” Byleth’s voice filters into his ears, slipping past Felix’s low moans. She clicks her tongue at him, disappointed -- and he feels her fingers circle around his wrists. “If you can’t behave, I’m just going to have to make you. Arms up, now.” 

Obediently, Sylvain lifts his hands over his head. He _thinks_ he knows what’s coming, since he’s got a pretty good idea of what’s under her bed -- and when the cool slide of silk coils tight around his wrists, his suspicions are confirmed. 

She ties his wrists to the bed frame, leaving him open and exposed. 

And… it’s less about not being able to defend himself. He knows neither Byleth nor Felix would _ever_ do anything to hurt him (on purpose), and all he had to do was say the word and they would stop. They’d drop _everything_ for him. 

It’s more about… not being able to _return_. He can’t do _anything_. He’s completely under their control and he can’t… give… _back_. 

When he opens his eyes again, Byleth is hovering over him, waiting, spring green eyes watching him, calculating, waiting. 

She tilts her head to the side, uneven locks of mint green falling over her bare shoulder. Waiting.

_He can handle this. He can handle this. Right?_

Sylvain smiles. Soft, reassuring. Real. 

_He’s okay._

Byleth smiles back.

Then, his eyes fall to her waist, where one of her many fake-phalluses is strapped to her hips. 

Suddenly, he’s filled with a new desire.

As soon as Felix hikes his hips up far enough to fall free of Sylvain’s lips, words rush from his chest, unbidden from his lungs.

“Need it, By, need it,” Sylvain wheezes, voice a little raspy from how insistently Felix had been pushing against his throat. 

With a smile still playing on her lips, Byleth moved out of Sylvain’s field of vision, behind Felix -- and Sylvain is _ecstatic_ when he feels slicked up fingers parting his asscheeks. 

“Convince me,” he hears Byleth command. Felix groans, knowing that Sylvain’s mouth will be occupied with the task of speaking, leaving his leaking cock untouched and aching. 

(Luckily, Felix shifts so that he leaks onto Sylvain's chest instead of his chin, so that's nice.)

"Need it, Byleth," he echoes himself, tugging uselessly against his restraints. "It's gonna be so soft and warm inside me, it'll feel _so good_, promise,"

From below him, he hears a snort -- Felix's shoulders shaking as he laughs at the words coming out of Sylvain's mouth. 

_Right_, Sylvain remembered, the clouds from the drugs in his system clearing for a moment. _She can't… feel… anything, with that._

“Try again, love.” Byleth reassured him, gently scissoring him open with the two fingers she’d worked inside of him. 

"I… I'll be good for you." Sylvain stammers out, too focused on the starbursts of pleasure taking up most of his brain space, zeroed in on the way Byleth's fingers stroke gently across his prostate. 

"Oh? You will?" Byleth teases, unconvinced. Felix chimes in with a "doubt it," equally as unimpressed with his lover's hesitant declaration. 

To her credit, Byleth hushes Felix with a "shh" and a few moments of liplock, the sound of their kisses mingling with the soft noises of slicked up fingers that are certainly going to drive Sylvain insane. 

Especially watching Byleth raise a hand to card through long, silky locks, breaking up the sheet of midnight blue that hangs over Felix's shoulder so she can yank his head back and expose the pale column of his throat to her hungry eyes. Especially that. 

Felix makes the _neediest_ noises when Byleth presses hot kisses to his throat, noises that make Sylvain's dick pulse with need. He tries really hard not to buck and squirm underneath them when Felix starts rutting against his chest, but staying still is _really_ _hard_ when _Felix Hugo Fraldarius_ is rutting against his tits, smearing precum all over his chest and moaning like a _whore_.

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, love," Byleth calls up to Sylvain, placing one warm hand on the inside of his thigh to still him. "You ready?"

"Am I- am I _ready,_" Sylvain stammers, astounded. "_Yes_, a thousand times yes- I've been ready since I was deposited onto your _bed, _By."

Felix snickers at his impatience- which Sylvain takes offense to. He's on horny drugs, for all the saint's sake!! He's been fit to burst for at least an hour now, and if something doesn't happen _soon, _he really thinks he might-

Oh,

_Oh,_

_Oh, fuck yeah, this'll do._

Just as he's getting himself all worked up, Byleth's strap nudges at his entrance, testing his resistance. Finding none, she slips inside him, sheathing herself within his heat, hips pressed flush to the insides of his thighs. 

And if _that_ wasn't enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, cut the noise in his brain off in favor of straight static noise, Felix ducks down and laves a wide stripe over his dripping head with his tongue before taking him into the searing heat of his mouth.

Sylvain's entire world washes out in white for precious few moments.

He can't feel the fatigue of his arms where they're still tied over his head, he can't feel the ache in his balls where they've been tightening up in anticipation of orgasm since this all started - all he can feel is hot and warm and _right there right there right there,_

"Like that, lovely?" Byleth calls out, barely loud enough to be heard over the squelching of the movement between his legs. He knows she's addressing him, because she's learned that Sylvain likes hearing pretty pet names just as much as he likes saying them himself. 

All he can do is nod and arch his back a little more, caught between the alternating rhythms of Felix's head and Byleth's hips. His attempt at an actual answer slips away from him in favor of a long groan, loud and low.

"I see," their professor hums, as if he's actually answered her. "Felix, if you would," she gestures in Sylvain's direction with a tilt of her chin, and, on command, Felix shuffles his hips up and back.

_Ah,_ Sylvain hazily realizes, the dots finally connecting as precum splatters onto his cheek. He drops his jaw, allows the length of Felix's cock to slide across his tongue, and lets his next pleased groan vibrate against the heated flesh in his mouth.

Felix, at least, is pleased with this solution - or, at least, that's what the little shudder that runs down his spine says. 

The stimulation at every angle, being filled at every entrance, it's clouding Sylvain's head worse than the drugs in his system. Maybe the drugs are making it worse.

Whatever it is, now it's _his_ turn to moan like a whore, _his_ turn to whine and keen and groan. The noises gurgle out of his throat, jumbled between eager sucks and slurps of Felix's cock, needy growls when Byleth strikes _that spot that spot_, and choked yelps when Felix hollows his cheeks around Sylvain's throbbing arousal.

The more saliva drips down his thighs, the more Byleth's nails drag against his hips as she pulls him back into another deep thrust, the more insistently Felix grumbles and groans, hips kicking into Sylvain's throat, the fuzzier Sylvain's mind gets.

He's warm, he's overwhelmed in pleasure, and he's…

He's safe. There are no expectations on him to perform or impress. He's being taken care of.

Felix is doing such a good job, earnestly sucking him off, scarred hands cupping his balls, squeezing the base of his dick, doing everything he can to please Sylvain- to take care of him.

Byleth is _incredible_, managing the both of them at once. Her thrusts are long and deep, one hand in Felix's hair, scratching down his scalp and neck, the other clutching Sylvain's thigh as she cranks the heat within him higher and higher.

All he has to do is lay back and let the pleasure wash over him.

And that's _nice_ and all, but _this_ kind of pleasure isn't just something he can sit back and _take_. This pleasure rises from low in his belly, boiling hot and slowly coiling within him in a way that makes him tense up in anticipation.

_It's coming, it's coming, it's coming, I'm coming, I'm-_

and, for a moment, his world is awash in white.

That only lasts a split second before he seizes up completely, every nerve ending _searing_ with heat as sensation fully overtakes him. He nearly chokes on Felix's dick when his own cock pulses and throbs, kicking like a live thing while he empties his load into the warm clutch of Felix's throat. The white edging his vision is _gone_, replaced by all kinds of colors sparkling and bursting across his field of vision. Byleth must have noticed his orgasm, because her thrusts turn staccato, punching even brighter stars of color into his vision every time she collides with that bundles of nerves hidden within him. 

_Has he ever orgasmed this hard? Has he ever felt pleasure to the point of pain? _

When his vision clears and his senses return to him, Sylvain finds tears cooling on his cheeks.

He floats in the fuzzy and warm feeling of post-orgasm until Felix pulls out of his mouth and Byleth pulls out of his ass, back to back. 

Blearily, he lifts his head and scans the room, and finds two faces peering down at him.

"Good?" Byleth queries, the question accompanied by the cutest tilt of her head.

Sylvain's smile shows all of his teeth. "Peachy."

"You did so good," his professor assures him, smoothing back the sweat-slicked strands of hair that have fallen in his face. "So good, letting us take care of you, just like you deserve."

He can't help the blush that colors his cheeks, the red tint of his face giving away how _pleased_ he is to… Well… please.

Byleth tilts her head to one side, eyeing him, and the corners of her eyes crinkle, something sly sparkling in the mint green of her irises. "Would you be so kind as to hold out a little longer? See, Felix is in a little bit of a predicament,"

Sylvain's gaze floats over to Felix, who's batting Byleth's hands away from where his arousal hangs heavy between his legs, angry red and dripping onto a pale thigh.

_That's right. Felix never came. _Despite his addled state, Sylvain feels like he would remember Felix coming in his mouth- and he definitely didn't remember that happening.

"Look at him, Professor," Felix hisses, still avoiding Byleth's grip. "He's in no state to-"

"You're right, Felix, _look at him_," Byleth croons, chasing the swordsman around the room with grabby hands. "We tied him up so he _couldn't_ be chivalrous and put your pleasure before his. Now he's just lying there, tied up all nice and pretty, waiting for you to use him for your pleasure."

Byleth doesn't say more than a few words at a time, so the speech is certainly surprising. But Sylvain doesn't think it's the speech that stops Felix in his tracks and drags a hesitant cinnabar stare in the redhead's direction. 

(Sylvain thinks it's got something to do with the way his legs are still spread and waiting, showing off the puffy, used pucker of his rim that's still shiny and slick from oil.)

Felix is too edged and desperate to turn down the offer, especially when Sylvain locks eyes with his wound up lover and runs his tongue slow over his lips (which he would bet are still red and shiny from sucking Felix's dick).

"You're sure?" Felix hovers by the edge of Byleth's bed, fingers just barely grazing tan, muscled thighs. 

Sylvain smiles, something sharp and rude, to match the words that come out of his mouth next.

"Use me like the whore you know I am." 

Felix frowns at the statement, but it doesn't stop him from slinging Sylvain's knees around his hips. "Tap out if it's too much," he murmurs, almost as an afterthought.

Then, he looks up to Sylvain's smug grin again, and the concern in his eyes hardens into something meaner.

_Good. _

"But it's never enough for you, is it," he mutters, snapping his hips forwards, burying his cock in the heat of Sylvain's ass all in one go. "Greedy." The swordsman punctuates his words with brutal thrusts, clearly chasing his end already. "_Insatiable._"

Sylvain howls, throws his head back and _screams_, but Felix doesn't let up.

"Seiros," Felix swears- and Sylvain can't tell if it's because he feels good or he's surprised by the amount of noise Sylvain is making. Regardless of the noise concern, Sylvain's shouts are clearly boosting Felix's ego, because every subsequent thrust strikes his swollen prostate with enough force to make Sylvain see stars again.

"Noisy," Byleth muses as she returns to her bedside, finished cleaning and putting away her toys. "We've _got_ to shut you up."

Despite the fact that Felix is trying very hard to fuck the brains right out of him, Sylvain has the answer to this.

"Sit on my face, sit on my face," he chants, the words all jumbled together as his tongue tries to sort out the difference between moaning and speaking. "_Sit on my face,"_

His professor only laughs before climbing onto the bed and slinging one strong thigh over his shoulder to straddle his face. 

Sylvain's in heaven. He has to be. 

Fucked out of his mind- by his repressed, childhood friend turned boyfriend, no less- and a mouthful of pussy- his former _professor's_ pussy, which, by the way, is sopping wet in a way that means she's already come at least once tonight. 

There's no way one man can be _this lucky_.

But as Byleth seizes up over him, walls pulsing around his tongue, dripping sweet sweet fluid down his chin, as Felix's blunt nails dig into his thighs and his hips stutter once, twice, before burying himself to the hilt within Sylvain and shooting load after warm load into his lover's body…

Sylvain thinks maybe he _is_ just that lucky.

(and when the fun's all over and they clean him up, untie him, and help him massage the circulation back into his arms? That's when he _knows_ he's just that lucky after all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys asked for tied up Sylvain with a dose of aphrodisiacs and I complied. Satisfied?? I am...
> 
> Come to [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iridescentai) or [Tumblr](https://iridescentai.tumblr.com) and yell at me to make more content!! I love hearing from you guys ❤❤❤


	3. the time Felix decided, "today, I am going to top."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT, MOTHERFUCKERS??? i'M bACK
> 
> 1000 apologies for how long this chapter took. It's very hard for me to write while living at home. But I've moved onto campus, so I'm set for the foreseeable future 😎
> 
> tags: an unEARTHLY amount of rambling about Felix and his Felix brain, Byleth is skilled in all skills, Top Notch Professor Byleth, feral!Dimitri, surprise Jeritza appearance, Felix tops AND Felix doms, blowjobs, degradation, Felix has a dirty mouth okay, WE TALK BEFORE SEX. COMMUNICATION. PERIOD., consensual sex, multiple orgasms, double penetration, Fucked Out, blink and you'll miss it sir kink
> 
> Extra warning for this chapter, because it was something I was thinking about while I was writing: If you're averse to people being referred to/treated as simply a hole to fuck, this really isn't the chapter for you!

In general, Felix is rough.

He doesn’t hold back against anyone, not with his actions and not with his words. Sometimes he purposefully takes things too far, just to prove a point. 

In battles and the training grounds alike, he is a ruthless opponent. (He began to admire Byleth in the first place because of her fighting style -- hungry, wild, unafraid to break the rules to win a match. To this day, he hopes to emulate her.)

Felix is by no means _ weak_, but there’s something about Sylvain and Byleth that feeds his weaknesses. 

He’d always thought things like sympathy and love to be useless, just a hindrance to his true goals. But when Sylvain helps him see the other side of things, or when Byleth convinces him to speak his mind on a particularly vulnerable subject, for some reason, he never feels lesser for it. 

And… well, before Sylvain and Byleth admitted their feelings for him, he wasn’t quite sure how to imagine his future aside from fighting. 

Back then, in his ideal situation, he’d be a wandering mercenary, tied to nothing and no one. Maybe he’d get his rocks off here and there, if the desire ever arose, but he’d never seen himself as a "settling down with a family" kinda guy. 

Worst case scenario, his father arranged a marriage between Felix and some noblewoman he’d never met (or… would it be even worse to have known her beforehand?). Felix didn’t _ like _ to think about that, but whenever he _ considered _ the prospect, it was always him and some meek little noblewoman fumbling about in the dark (until he finally knocked her up with the heir his father no doubt arranged the marriage for in the first place). 

_ Never_, _ ever _ in his life had he _ ever _ imagined he’d be in the setup he was nowadays. 

In love with his childhood friend _ and _ his once-professor-turned-commander, and _ loved back _ by both of them. 

Oh, how they love him back. They make sure he knows it, too. 

In all of his idle daydreams about sex and whatever in the world it might take to drive him to seek such a thing out -- because he _ had _ sexual desire, Sylvain persistently existed by his side, after all, it was just a matter of how he would go about relieving such desire -- Felix had never quite imagined things to go like this. 

All his assumptions that he’d end up in a brothel or sleeping with his weak-willed noblewoman wife someday were thrown directly out of his mind’s windows after he started having sex with Sylvain and Byleth. 

They poke and prod and touch and kiss him until he’s something else -- something wild, something vulnerable, something dark and desirous and hungry for more. 

They don’t mind that he’s rough -- that he bites, scratches, and holds tight until they bruise in the shape of his fingerprints. They don’t mind that his words come out sharp and pointed, teasing, condescending, even degrading, sometimes. 

And it’s not like Felix does it just to _ do _ it -- though it does come rather naturally. He’s mindful of what they respond to, both positively and negatively, and only bares his teeth when it’s necessary (and appreciated). 

The thing that surprises him the most about their sexual arrangement is that… Felix often finds himself _ being _ fucked, and less often _ doing _ the actual fucking. Not that he has a problem with that (they make sure he _ always _ feels good), but, especially with his temperament and personality, he’d always imagined things going… differently. 

He _ does _ push to be on top, once in awhile, to be _ fucking _ instead of _ being fucked_. Sylvain allows it-- _ pff_, what is he saying. Sylvain _ loves _it, because watching Felix get worked up and lose himself to desire could easily be named as one of Sylvain’s favorite pastimes. 

Sylvain is eager and willing to let Felix have _ whatever the hell _ he wants of him. Yes, it’s easy to roll Sylvain over and insist he allow Felix to take control. 

It’s _ Byleth _ that he can’t defeat. 

Which, honestly, should not surprise him, considering their history of wins and losses. (The score currently looks something like, Byleth: 447, Felix: 3.)

And, look, once again, he doesn’t _ mind _ it. 

It’s just that he _ really _ wouldn’t mind having Byleth underneath him, red-faced and panting while he drowns her in stimulation. Oh, what a sight it would be, to see his calm and collected commander completely out of control and lost to the throes of pleasure. It would be payback, if you will, for all the times she’s done the same to him.

He _ craves _ it, dreams of it, even. 

But he has not an inkling of an idea of how to bring his dreams to fruition.

\---

The answer comes to him on the training grounds -- as most things do. 

He’d already soundly defeated Ignatz that morning -- the mild-mannered man felt more comfortable behind a bow, but he’d requested Felix’s help with sword training in case of up close and personal encounters. Felix had to admit, Ignatz was improving at a steady rate, but he was nowhere _ near _ Felix’s level of swordsmanship. 

Itching for another fight after an easy victory, he’d chased Catherine around until Jeritza stepped in -- “to satiate your hunger for battle,” the man had said. Mercedes’ little brother was weird, but Felix didn’t mind so much, not when he was so good with a lance. 

Jeritza was also pretty well versed in magic, so he kept Felix on his toes with the occasional Thunder crackling close enough to make the swordsman’s hair stand on end. 

In the end, the two called it a draw after locking weapons again and again. To be honest, Felix was tiring, and he feared that the next Thunder strike would catch him squarely in the chest. He did _ not _ plan to die on the training grounds, and would happily call a draw if it meant he lived another day.

After lunch and a short rest to regain his energy, Felix trundled back to the training grounds, as per usual, and found -- of all the people -- the boar prince and Byleth. 

They were sparring -- which was odd, because Dimitri hadn’t done much but stare at the ruins of the cathedral while at the monastery. The only time he drew his weapon was when he felt threatened, or on the battlefield. 

But here he was, crossing swords -- well, lances -- with Byleth. 

That was odd as well, Byleth wielding a lance. Felix knew, in theory, that she could do it, but he’d never _ seen _ her do it before -- and she wasn’t half bad, especially against the monster that was Dimitri at the moment. 

Felix could tell as soon as he laid eyes on the boar that he was in one of his worse boarish moods. The most obvious tell was the simple fact that he was _ sparring _ with _ Byleth_, but aside from that, Dimitri was growling and snarling, nearly foaming at the mouth while he swung wildly with his lance. 

The _ only _ reason Felix knew this was a premeditated fight and not just Dimitri trying to kill their commander was the training lance in his hand, not the usual unearthly glow of Areadbhar. 

So Felix stands by and watches.

He watches them spar (fight?) all the way up until Byleth knocks Dimitri’s lance out of his hands and the boar prince launches himself bodily at their commander. 

Both Felix and just about every other person in the room rushes towards the two writhing on the ground, certain that Dimitri and his overwhelming strength would rend their precious commander limb from limb. 

But Byleth shouts a warning, promises everybody that she has things under control, and everyone… tentatively… returns to their watching spots at a comfortable distance away.

Right away, Felix sees why Byleth had them stand down. 

Dimitri’s form is sloppy. 

He’s just a mess of flailing limbs hoping to take down his target, and Byleth has trained with their army’s best brawlers since she was a professor at the academy. She has no problem dodging and blocking his blows. 

It’s when Dimitri gets his huge fucking hands on her and throws himself bodily against her, knocking her to the ground, that Felix gets a little nervous. 

As skilled as Byleth is, her strategy is no match for all of that Blaiddyd monstrous strength colliding with her with the force of a Demonic Beast, knocking the wind out of her as her back hits the floor. She’s immediately reduced to kicking and scratching like a cornered cat, trying to claw her way out of the impossible situation she’s been caught in. 

Felix watches, with both rising fear and simmering curiosity, as Dimitri wrestles their commander to the ground, smudging her cheek against the dirt with a hand at the back of her head. Byleth kicks and growls and spits -- seemingly reduced to as much as an animal as Dimitri -- and Felix… feels. 

He feels… hot.

“Do you yield, professor,” Dimitri growls, all gravelly low tones and bass notes that Felix has grown increasingly used to as the voice of his childhood friend. 

“_Never,_” Byleth hisses, fire sparking in her eyes like Felix has only seen on the battlefield. She kicks at him, but the blows seem to have no effect on the boar prince.

Dimitri actually _ smiles_, though it looks more feral than friendly. He sits back against her legs, bringing her writhing to a minimum now that the solid weight of his body rests against her wild movements. Byleth nearly screams in frustration, and her forehead clunks against the dirt of the training ground floors.

Felix is trying very _ very _ hard to quell the desire rising in his system. The training grounds is no place to be hot and bothered. 

“Do you yield?” Dimitri repeats, teeth bared in a warped grin as he stares down at his still struggling opponent. 

Byleth wiggles some more, finds that she can’t move, and lets out a grand sigh. “I yield.”

For a moment, Felix feared that Dimitri wouldn’t let up, that the deranged side of him would actually _ kill _ their professor (he had the strength to snap her neck right then and there, if he so desired) -- but the boar merely releases Byleth and stands up off of her. 

After Byleth stands up and dusts herself off, Dimitri bows his head just the slightest bit, straggly blond bangs falling over his eyes. 

“Thank you for your time, professor.” He intones.

“As you were,” Byleth dismisses him in return, picking up the lance she had discarded after being tackled to the ground. 

Dimitri storms out of the place, as if the fight with the professor had not blown off _ enough _ steam. Felix takes his place by Byleth’s side in Dimitri’s stead. 

“You’re going to get killed if you don’t know how to fight back against something like that.” He informs her as she puts the training lances back on the rack. 

Byleth turns to him and smiles. “Offering to teach me?” 

Which is how Felix finds himself on top of their professor in the middle of the training grounds, arms pinned behind her back with one hand, head pushed into the ground with the other. He’s sitting on the small of her back -- he’s not as tall as Dimitri -- but he’s got her nice and pinned all the same. 

That heat stirs in his belly once again. 

His fingers twitch where they’re buried in her hair, the hazy dream images floating in his consciousness urging him to pull until she’s facing him.

“I’m not as strong as Dimitri, so, obviously, you could force your way out of this if you so desired.” Felix began speaking, hoping to quell the fire swelling in his gut. “We’ve gone over a similar situation before, but your legs are pinned this time -- at least, they would be, if I was Dimitri’s height.” 

“Alas,” Byleth teases from where she’s laid against the ground. Felix rubs her face in the dirt in retaliation.

Felix’s hips shift as he leans forwards to put more pressure on her arms, trying to imitate Dimitri’s strength, and he finds his pelvis pressed to the swell of her ass. 

Armed with the rising desire in his system, an idea begins to form in his mind. It’s unlike him, but, given the theme of his thoughts for the past couple days, it might be worth it.

He leans down further still to bring his mouth to her ear, keeping his words between the two of them, and breathes, “What I wouldn’t give to have you underneath me like this in my bed.” 

The sudden shift from serious to _ horny _ brings Byleth pause. 

She freezes. Calculating. 

“You’ll have to give it your all,” she finally replies, her voice a husky whisper to match his, “I won’t go down without a fight.” 

“Then a fight you’ll get, _ professor,_” Felix brushes his lips against the shell of her ear as he pulls back, and her hair tickles his cheek as he sits up. “Maybe I shouldn’t teach you how to get out of this, if only to have a trick up my sleeve for later brawls.” He muses aloud.

Byleth laughs, something sharp and amused, at his announcement. 

“Then again, after offering you the solution, it would be your death on my hands should you fall to this in battle,” Felix adds, pretending to seriously consider his options. 

Of course he’s going to teach her.

He'll just have to be extra crafty later. 

\---

Felix spends the rest of his day somewhere between adrenaline-fueled and lust-riddled. He’s on edge, vision sharpened, body twitchy and ready for action. 

When he runs into Sylvain in the hallway leading to his quarters, he nearly eats him alive right there.

By sheer willpower, he reigns himself in -- but he can’t stop the fist that lashes out and twists into the tunic Sylvain has changed into now that the day’s winding down.

“Woah there, Fee,” Sylvain yelps, surprised by the intensity of Felix’s… well… everything. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Felix is so _ fucking _ horny at this point, he doesn’t trust himself to form words. 

Instead, he drags Sylvain by the shirt into his room, twists another hand into his shirt, and uses Sylvain’s body to slam the door closed. 

“_Woah_, woah, woah, woah,” Sylvain cries, caught completely off-guard (and probably expecting to die any minute). “What’s gotten into y-” 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Felix is not in the mood to explain. He shuts the cavalier up in an instant, crashing into him with a heated kiss and a strangled moan. 

Despite having no idea what’s going on, Sylvain’s hand comes up to card through Felix’s hair, pulling it from its ponytail and letting it fall onto his shoulders. Felix kisses and kisses and kisses his stupid redhead until his lips nearly go numb, nearly growling into Sylvain’s pretty mouth when he feels a tug against his hair. 

Felix allows Sylvain to pull him back by his hair -- though he really shouldn’t, given his current fixation -- and Sylvain eyes him with equal parts confusion and excitement. 

“What’s… what’s gotten into you?” He finally finishes his earlier query, looking Felix up and down like there must be something wrong with him. “You haven’t been drugged, right? You haven’t eaten anything weird? You’re not concussed?” 

Felix rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Sylvain’s concern. 

“I’m fine.” The swordsman bites out. “Shouldn’t you be ecstatic? This sort of thing is right up your alley. Why are you questioning it?” 

“Because it’s _ you_, Felix,” Sylvain shoots back, eyebrows furrowed over honey-gold eyes. “Usually we have to convince you to take a night off from training to get you in bed. You don’t think about _ anything _ but swords and winning.” 

“True,” Felix conceded, allowing him that, at least. “But I feel like this _ now_. Stop asking questions.”

Sylvain shrugged, placated, and let go of Felix’s hair. 

Felix fell back onto him like a starving man, devouring every piece of Sylvain he could get his mouth on. Luckily, Sylvain wasn’t fighting him. He was content to allow Felix to bite at his lips and lick down his neck -- and _ ecstatic _ to allow Felix to tear his shirt off over his head. 

Felix _ feels _ crazy, wonders if some of Dimitri’s crazy has rubbed off on him just by proximity, feels wild and powerful and confident enough to pull just about anything off.

Maybe that’s why he grabs Sylvain by his curls and pushes him to his knees before him and intones, “Get to work,” with all the confidence of the King of Faerghus himself. 

Sylvain looks up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates, his hands resting on Felix’s thighs to balance him after he’d tumbled to his knees. He’s not confused -- no, Sylvain knows _ exactly _ what Felix is demanding of him -- but he’s certainly _ surprised_. 

But that surprise gives way to desire as quickly as it came, and Sylvain undoes belt buckles and ties as fast as he can as he rushes to follow orders, rubbing Felix through his breeches all the while. 

Felix can’t help but groan when Sylvain takes him in his hands, teasing and pumping until he’s fully hard and pulsing within his grip. 

He quickly tires of the teasing, though, and grabs Sylvain’s hair to tug his head back far enough to force his mouth open. “Enough,” Felix growls, jutting his hips far enough forwards to maneuver his dick onto Sylvain’s bottom lip with his free hand. “Suck.” 

Sylvain looks no less than _ exhilarated _ at Felix’s tone, and he swallows Felix down like he’s been handed his last meal. 

_ Maybe Felix should treat Sylvain like this more often_.

He’s really not looking to choke Sylvain on his dick -- though he does like the way Sylvain’s eyes water when he pushes past his limit -- so the hand he keeps twisted into sunset red curls is more for the premise of control, not for pushing the cavalier down any further than he’s willing to go. 

(Regardless, Sylvain _ does _ keep telling Felix that he’s going to deepthroat him one of these days, he’s just got to work up to it…)

There’s something about the fervor of Sylvain’s movements that really appeals to Felix, and he can’t help but buck his hips forwards, meeting the downstroke of Sylvain’s hot mouth. 

Pretty lips thin around his cock, and Sylvain’s face twists a little, unprepared for the extra push -- but he furrows his eyebrows and settles into the rhythm Felix sets, working with what Felix demands of him without complaint. 

“_Stars _ above, you’re -- _ fuck _ \-- you’re _ so _ fucking good, Sylvain,” Felix spits out, too wrapped up in the rush of it all to censor the words coming out of his mouth. 

Sylvain _ whines _ around his dick, ever a sucker for praise (_especially _from Felix), and shoves a hand into his own breeches to rut against. 

“Look at you,” Felix scowls down at the kick of Sylvain’s hips -- especially when they take a turn to grind against his boot. “Desperate for it, and all you’ve done is suck my dick. _ Pathetic_.” 

Sylvain whines at that, too, equally as eager to be used as Felix’s personal sex toy. He squeezes the base of Felix’s cock (where his lips can’t quite reach yet), and Felix grunts, kicking into the soft, wet heat of his mouth again. 

“Your mouth is so fucking good, ‘vain,” he breathes, eyes half-open as he stares up at his own ceiling. “Better for fucking than talking, if you ask me.” 

This wrenches a full bodied _ groan _ from Sylvain, the intensity of which vibrates against Felix’s heavy member. Felix tips his head back down to eye the redhead beneath him, intrigued by the reaction.

Sylvain does that _ thing _ with his tongue again, and Felix loses the ability to form words for a moment. But as soon as he does, a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, devilish intent obvious in crimson eyes. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking whore,” Felix sneers -- though the amused smile never leaves his lips. “If I kept you here on your knees, just a hole for me to fuck,” 

Sylvain’s eyes slip closed, and his hips rock faster against the hand in his pants. 

“What would your _ father _ say, Sylvain?” He teased. “_Oh, Margrave Gautier, I’m afraid Sylvain can’t come home to the estate, he’s busy working my cock in the meantime. He has an ever so talented mouth, you know, it’s a shame to let it go to waste doing trivial things such as talking and the like_,” Felix put on airs even despite the aforementioned talented mouth around his cock, amusing himself with his own narrative. “Shameful, indeed. I’d better keep you here where you belong, after all.” 

With Sylvain rutting against his foot, truly desperate for release despite Felix’s relatively rough treatment, his desperation spurred on by the crass words coming from above him -- oh, the _ rush _ of it was enough to have Felix’s head spinning.

“Keep it up,” he commands, giving a warning in the form of tightening his fingers in Sylvain’s messy curls. “I’m close.” 

If anything, Sylvain’s efforts _ double _ \-- and Felix’s eyes nearly roll back in his head from the intensity of it all. He can do nothing but thrust into Sylvain’s warm mouth and revel in the tight suction of hollowed cheeks and a skilled tongue as his dick disappears between kiss-swollen lips. 

Yeah, actually, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was close. The inklings of orgasm had been sparking deep within him, but Sylvain’s efforts had fanned the flames higher and higher until he couldn’t ignore the urge anymore.

“I’m- I’m going to-” Felix huffs, unable to stop the heavy pants leaving his lungs. “Don’t stop-” he insists -- though it probably comes out more as a plea, considering how close to orgasm he is. 

Sylvain looks up at him through bronze eyelashes, honey-gold darkened with desire to the deepest earth tones known to man.

Felix can’t take it. 

He comes into Sylvain’s welcoming heat with a groan, folding over just a bit as the pleasure rocketing through his system knocks him a little off balance. For a moment he worries that Sylvain doesn’t _ want _ cum in his mouth, but when he tries to pull away after the first spurt of seed, Sylvain reaches up and holds him in place, forcing Felix to stay still while his lover greedily sucks down the rest of his release. 

When the pleasure finally subsides, Sylvain pulls off of his dick with a gasp, rocking back onto his heels and catching himself with his palms against the floor behind him. 

“Felix, what the _ fuck_,” the cavalier breathes, caught completely off guard. 

Felix simply regards the man beneath him with his usual standoffish expression, waiting for clarification before he answers a question that hasn’t been asked.

“That was fucking _ incredible_,” Sylvain hisses, squinting up at the swordsman towering over him. “I- what-” he stammered, at a loss for what to say.

“Oh,” Felix realizes as he tucks himself back into his breeches, “You never got off, did you? Come here,” he offers, plopping down on his bed and patting the spot beside him for Sylvain to sit. 

Sylvain does sit, but he swats Felix’s hand away when it reaches for his pants. “Nah, it’s cool, man. I definitely came already. That was fucking _ hot_.” 

Felix lets his hand fall to his side on the bed, somewhat surprised by the announcement. 

“I will ask once again,” Sylvain announces, “What -- and I cannot stress this enough -- the _ actual fuck _ got into you?” He demands. “Not that I’m upset about it, not at _ all_,” he quickly assures Felix, “But I need to know how to make this happen again. For research purposes.”

“Right,” Felix drawls, letting Sylvain get by with the obvious lie without arguing. 

The swordsman falls back against his bed with a _ thump_, and Sylvain follows suit. The cavalier has always been one for post-orgasm cuddles, so Felix isn’t the least bit surprised when a muscled arm curls around his waist and pulls him to Sylvain’s chest. 

Here, in the glow of post-orgasm, Felix is the most relaxed he can physically get. 

Maybe that’s why the truth spills past his lips. 

“I want to top Byleth.” He admits into open air, lazily counting the cracks in his ceiling with half-lidded eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it for days, now. And then today, she and the boar were sparring -- I watched him wrestle her to the ground, and I couldn’t help but think…” 

Sylvain nods along, eyes slipping closed. “I see,” is all he says, and waits for the rest of Felix’s explanation.

“I needed to blow off some steam,” Felix concludes. “I hope you’re alright with that.” 

Sylvain merely nods again, though a dopey smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t explain the smile, but he does press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. 

“And…” Felix trails off, post-orgasm haze not enough to clear his worries about this particular topic, “You know I… you know I don't mean it, right? I… value you as a person. Not just a fuck hole.” He spits out _ value _ like it pains him -- but it’s more the admittance than the term that’s hard to get out. “And I’d… I’d never tell your father. Never.” 

Sylvain opens his eyes to meet Felix’s, and, for once, he’s completely serious -- not a hint of a joke in those hazel eyes. 

“I know.” He assures his swordsman, cupping Felix’s cheek with one of his stupidly large hands. As soon as he speaks, though, warm amusement trickles back into his gaze, crinkling his eyes at the corners as he smiles. “You’ve gotta do that again sometime, though. It was pretty hot to hear you say that stuff in the moment.” 

Felix sniffs, turning his nose up at his insatiable lover. “Of course it was.” 

\---

His wild midday rendezvous with Sylvain takes the edge off until dinner. 

Dinner, of course, is when he crosses paths with Byleth again. Intentionally. 

She raises an eyebrow at him as he storms up to her -- effectively ending the conversation she’s holding with Bernadetta -- and as Bernie scampers off in retreat, Felix steps shoulder to shoulder with Byleth, half his chest pressed to hers so he can bend his head just enough to speak into her ear.

“My room tonight.” He informs her, simple and to the point. 

Ever unaffected, Byleth merely tilts her head the slightest bit, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “And if I had plans?” She offers up a potential snag in his plans, but he’s already thought about this.

“Cancel them.”

\---

Sylvain arrives first at Felix’s door -- hair still damp from the baths, dressed comfortably. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have anything cute to say when Felix opens the door. He merely walks in, sits on the bed, and waits. 

Felix has half a mind to praise him, but he figures that can wait. 

Byleth makes an appearance not long after, and when Felix opens the door to her signature knock, the gust of incoming air sweeps the scent of sage and mint into his room. She’s dressed in the academy’s evening wear uniform -- a remnant of a much different time. Nostalgia floods him, so tangibly that it prickles the back of his throat, but he swallows it down and steps aside to invite her in.

“So, Felix, what’s the occasion?” 

Felix has half a mind to launch right into it, as he had with Sylvain, but- as good as she is at reading and understanding him- Byleth doesn’t just _ let _ Felix do whatever he wants. (Sylvain does.)

“I have… a proposition to make.” He begins, gritting the words out through his teeth. 

Byleth takes a seat on Felix’s bed, next to Sylvain- and now Felix feels like he’s been thrust into the spotlight. His _ least _favorite place to be. 

“You don’t seem pleased to be proposing much at all,” Byleth notes- picking up on his discomfort immediately. 

“Because I don’t want to ask.” Felix admits, fists clenched at his sides. This is _ difficult _ for him. “I just want to _ do_.”

Byleth and Sylvain exchange a glance- and Felix has half a mind to take it as an insult, a shared joke between them, but the look they exchange is so undeniably _ fond _ (fond of _ him_), that the anger in his chest dissipates all at once. 

“Thank you for taking the time to talk it over with me, then,” Byleth hums, waiting patiently beside Sylvain on the bed. 

Felix nods. And nods again. Then forces himself to stop nodding because he’ll look like a fool. 

_ Goddess, is he… nervous? Is he really actually honestly nervous? _

_ This is stupid. He can discuss sex like a grown man. He’s Felix Hugo fucking Fraldarius. He’s got Sylvain “will flirt with anything that breathes” Gautier AND Byleth “The Ashen Demon” Eisner wrapped around his fucking pinky finger. This is nothing. _

So he speaks. 

In no uncertain terms, he makes Byleth aware of his intentions for this evening.

He doesn’t mention having ruminated on this particular topic for the past couple weeks, but he does mention having thoroughly _ destroyed _ Sylvain earlier that day. 

The _ look _ on Byleth’s face tells them both that she’d noticed, alright. 

“All of this to say, Byleth,” he couldn’t help but sigh around her name, the slightest bit of worry creasing the corners of his eyes. “I’m… not very nice. I know I’m offering to treat you roughly, but I… worry.”

There’s a glimmer of curiosity in spring green eyes, and her head tilts ever so slightly to one side. “You know I can handle you, Felix. What’s brought about the concern?” 

Sylvain opens his mouth to speak up- and the oddest thing happens. As soon as Felix’s eyes land on him, Sylvain’s mouth _ closes_. 

Felix never thought he’d see the day when Sylvain _ waited _ for _ permission to speak_. 

Goddess, if he weren’t tangled up in knots about the current topic of conversation, he’d probably be sporting a tent in his breeches just from that. 

Instead of dropping everything and devouring Sylvain right then and there, Felix nods his permission. 

“As you probably know already, there’s a fine line between turn-ons and no-gos. When you step into degradation, the line gets kinda… blurry.” He explained. “Felix here is worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking everything up.”

Felix felt his face twist into a scowl, but Sylvain spoke the truth. 

Something in Byleth’s expression lifts, and the way she scrutinizes the swordsman standing in front of her makes Felix feel… kind of small. 

“You sat me down because you were worried I’d take something you said during rough sex to heart?” Byleth sums up pretty much everything in a simple sentence, and Felix feels kind of dumb. “Rest assured, my love, I will tell you to stop if I need you to stop. No matter what it is that needs to be stopped. And I will not hold it against you.” 

Felix almost sags in relief. 

“Felix,” 

He looks up to find Byleth’s eyes on him, an oddly soft expression on her face. 

“May I hug you?” 

Felix rolls his eyes at the request- both because he’s no good with mushy stuff like this _ and _ because his lover shouldn’t have to _ ask _ for a hug. But, he does… appreciate the request.

In response, he merely lifts his arms. 

Byleth’s warmth surrounds him before he can even blink, and the earlier urge to sag in relief takes over his body before he can stop it. 

“You worry too much,” she hums into his neck as she nestles beneath his jaw. “It’s very endearing.” 

“Good,” Felix manages to sound stern, even though he’s completely boneless in her arms. 

“And Felix?” 

“Yes?” 

Byleth sighs, and her breath is warm against his throat. Felix shivers.

“If you _ do _say something out of line and hurt someone’s feelings, all you need do is earnestly apologize.” 

Felix bends just enough to bury his nose in her hair and take a calming inhale of her scent. “I will keep that in mind.”

\---

Byleth does not make it easy for him. 

He hadn’t expected her to. 

As soon as he lifts her off the ground, looping her legs around his waist, she covers his mouth with her own -- licking into his mouth, nipping at his lips, anything that will give her the edge. 

But Felix doesn’t budge. 

He waits until his knees hit the edge of the bed, until he deposits Byleth’s body down next to Sylvain’s, to fight back against her advances, warring with her tongue in a desperate clash of dominant personalities. 

They tear at each other’s clothes -- evenly matched -- until Felix is just in pants and until all of Byleth’s extra uniform doodads have been discarded. The shawl, the dress shirt and skirt, the boots, they all get discarded to the floor, leaving Byleth in an undershirt, the tiniest pair of pants Felix has ever seen, and leggings.

He gets his first leg up (figuratively, not literally) when she lifts her hand (probably to twist her fingers into his hair). He pins her down to the bedding and hums in satisfaction. 

“Predictable,” he mumbles against her lips- and she nips at him in return. Her other hand soon follows the same fate, pinned next to her head by very strong, very capable swordsman hands. 

She’s too strong to be pinned by only one of his hands- _ especially _ while he’s devoting his attention elsewhere- but, little does she know, Felix has an ace up his sleeve. 

“Sylvain, if you would,” Felix raises his head for a moment to call for the redhead sitting patiently nearby, beckoning him into the fray with a tilt of his head. 

Byleth lets out a soft _ tch _ under her breath when Sylvain uses two hands to hold her wrists above her head. “Playing dirty, I see,” she huffs as the two men shuffle about on the bed to get comfortable. 

“Using my surroundings to my advantage,” Felix corrects her as he bends to press open-mouthed kisses to her jaw. “Now,” he moves on, pulling on her undershirt until it slides free of her pants. He lifts the fabric until it rucks up underneath her arms, exposing her breasts, and nudges the hem up against her lips, “Hold this.”

Byleth takes the shirt in her mouth, but she bares her teeth at him while doing so, letting him know she’s not about to take this quietly.

“Sylvain,” 

The redhead in question immediately lifts his head to meet Felix’s gaze, waiting patiently. 

“You may kiss her, if you’d like.” The swordsman informs him, trailing his fingers down Byleth’s sternum. “But keep your hands out of your pants.” 

Sylvain shoots him a dopey grin and a salute before lying down next to their captive professor. Unlike Felix, Sylvain _ is _ strong enough to hold both of Byleth’s hands in place with just one of his (and Felix suspects that the _ size _ of his hands has something to do with it as well). With his free hand, he cups Byleth’s cheek and turns her to face him so he can shower pretty pink lips in even more kisses.

Now free to explore her body, Felix traverses her skin with the palms of his hands -- just taking her in, for a moment. 

She’s covered in shiny white scars, just like he and Sylvain are. Some of them are shallow, like the cut on her hip where skin stretches across bone, and some of them are concerningly deep, like the scar that lies just over her heart. Some of them are _ obviously _ stab wounds, but others are weird shapes and patterns -- likely imprinted on her skin from the impact of a spell. 

He traces over each of them individually while Sylvain coaxes tiny moans out of the professor with whatever the hell magic that man is able to perform with his mouth. One scar forks off into three, short little spears of scar tissue, and the last one lands him at the beginning of the swell of her breasts. 

He thinks, perhaps _ now _ would be a good time to start taking his beloved professor apart, bit by precious bit.

As much as he’d like to tease and draw this out, Felix has very specific plans in mind for tonight -- and those alone are going to take a good amount of time without all the teasing. So he skips his usual build-up and licks a hot stripe over one awaiting nipple, sending a jolt through Byleth’s body as he catches her by surprise. 

“So occupied up there that you couldn’t see that coming?” Felix queries, amused. When he strokes a thumb over the bud he doesn’t have his mouth on, coaxing it to a peak, her back arches into his touch. “Steady now,” he smoothes a hand down her stomach, soothing her back down onto the bedsheets -- only to take a hard suck of the nipple in his mouth and ramp her up all over again.

Of course, those little touches couldn’t keep their professor occupied for long, and Felix feels exactly when she starts to get bored of his little game, her body wriggling impatiently under his fingers. For now, he indulges her, and lifts both of his hands to knead into her breasts, stimulating more than just one point of pleasure.

Honestly, Felix had never understood the fascination and damn near _ obsession _ most men had with boobs. 

It was just _ fat_, wasn't it? Just a physical indicator that a body produced more estrogen than testosterone. Right?

Then, he’d gotten his hands on Byleth. 

(To be fair, he’d never really had his hands on _ anyone _ before Byleth and Sylvain, but he doesn’t think that really matters, now.)

Now, his strong, capable swordsman hands are greedy, reaching out and seeking until he can get a handful of soft skin, prodding and rubbing until he can coax two little buds into stiffened peaks, pinching and rolling and groping until Byleth’s throaty moans reach his ears. 

He thinks, out of everything, it’s her reaction that really makes it for him. 

Sure, Felix likes it when Sylvain gets his mouth on his chest, but compared to the _ sounds _ Byleth makes when they go to town on her? He can’t be experiencing _ half _ of what she is. 

Though, the act does have the same general effect on all three of them. 

“_More_,” Byleth pants against Sylvain’s lips. Her legs, still hooked around Felix’s hips, pull him closer as she pushes up, reaching for relief for the heat that’s begun to build deep in her gut. 

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” Felix reminds her, lifting his hips just far enough away that she can’t grind against him. “Stay still.” 

Byleth bemoans his command with a frustrated groan, but she _ does _ still her hips, so there’s that. 

Felix goes back to kneading at her breasts and leaving sloppy kisses over the spots that make her breath catch in her throat. When he catches sight of Sylvain sucking a red mark into her neck, the swordsman decides he can indulge himself as well. 

On top of having a sharp tongue, Felix… ah, well… 

Byleth jolts when he sinks his teeth into soft flesh, leaving a ring of red behind in their wake. 

While he soothes the mark with his tongue, Felix considers the cut of the armor she wears every day. 

He decides… he’ll have to make another mark. Somewhere more… noticeable. 

His next bite settles right along where her armor would lay -- she’ll feel it when she next straps it over her chest. (That is, if they don’t magick it away before morning.) Her thighs squeeze so tight around his waist in response, he wonders if he’ll bruise from it. 

“You know,” Felix speaks up over Byleth’s rumbling groans. “I distinctly remember seeing you and your ridiculous armor for the first time and thinking, you had to be either an _ idiot _ or a _ whore_.” He recalled, thinking about the drawbacks of lace tights and a stomach cutout in what was supposed to be armor. “I almost told you to your face, but I wanted to spar with you badly enough that I held my tongue until I could suss you out further.”

Felix knows that Sylvain is rolling his eyes at his abrasive nature, but it can’t be helped. (Not his nature, nor Sylvain’s exasperation.)

“But then I realized,” Felix trails off, muffling himself with a greedy suck to her skin, “All of your questionable armor choices… They’re on _ purpose_, aren’t they?” He demanded, pinching at her nipples until her gaze slides over to meet his -- hazy and unfocused while Sylvain laved attention over the planes and dips of her neck and jaw. “You’ve met your fair share of Sylvains -- and worse, I would bet,” Felix hypothesizes aloud, musing to himself -- and kind of to Byleth, too. “All the decoration is just to draw the eye away from that incredible swordsmanship, huh?”

“I do what I can,” Byleth manages to reply between panting breaths, sending him a half-smile for his efforts. 

Felix hums, noses down the scar over her heart, then rests his head against the pillow of one of her breasts. He lets his fingers dance over her skin again, tracing runes he’s mastered and runes he still struggles with, trailing down to her tiny, tiny shorts. When he presses the heel of his hand against her mound, she gasps -- sharp and quick -- and ruts heavily into his hand. 

“It’s all on purpose,” Felix continues. The corners of his mouth pull into something too sinister to be a grin, and he grinds his palm into her shorts again before continuing. “So, it was your plan all along to draw us all in, huh, professor? You had aimed to whore yourself out to the first willing victim from the _ start?_”

Byleth’s gaze sharpens just enough to give Felix pause, and when green eyes cut to his, he pauses, his hand hovering just a hair’s breadth away from her, just close enough to feel the heat radiating off other, but nothing more. 

Felix chooses his next words carefully. 

“You _ know _ everyone in the monastery would drop to their knees and worship you, given the slightest chance, _ don’t you? _” Felix prods, arching a thin eyebrow in his professor’s direction. 

Byleth colors, flushing pink in the cheeks, and _ suddenly _ can’t meet his eyes anymore.

_ Bingo. _

“Oh, _ professor_,” Felix preens, pleased with himself, “I’m _ definitely _ going to have to take you down a couple pegs for that one. Everyone in this monastery may lust after you, but you’re _ mine_.” 

Sylvain hums an agreement against their professor’s neck, and Byleth shivers when the flat of his tongue slides up the column of her throat. A pinky finger hooks into the hem of her smalls, and Felix pulls them down down down the length of her legs until she’s only clad in stockings.

Her hips buck into the teasing flicks Felix keeps delivering to her clit, and when Felix gives Sylvain permission to wander, she keens into empty air while he rubs and pinches at stiffened buds.

“It’s time to be honest, professor,” Felix insists, drawing circles over her entrance despite the stocking barrier, watching the material darken with her slick. “You’d be the monastery’s most popular plaything.” 

Byleth’s eyes darken, but she refuses to give him the pleasure of a response, biting her lip so hard it goes white under the pressure of her teeth. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Felix assures her, thumbing at the waistband of her stockings. “Sylvain would _ jump _ at the chance to be everyone’s pretty little pet, wouldn’t you, no, Sylvain?” 

“_Fuck_, yeah,” Sylvain groans, burying his face in the professor’s neck just at the thought of it. “‘Specially if you’re there, Fee,” he murmurs, red-faced while he squeezes Byleth’s tits. 

Felix rumbles out a laugh that can only be categorized as sadistic as he discards Byleth’s stockings onto the floor. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fair game for anyone to pass by and play with, as long as you’re under my command?” 

“_Fee,_” Sylvain moans, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. It’s clear he’s doing everything he can to keep himself from reaching down and yanking himself off.

Felix clicks his tongue and shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “You’ll see soon enough, professor. Right here, underneath us, is your proper place.”

All this time, he’d been searching for the right role to settle into, trying to figure out what felt most comfortable with Byleth _ and _ Sylvain under his control. The _ I take what I want when I want it _ persona worked just fine with only Sylvain, but he’d quickly felt awkward in that role when he’d brought Byleth into the mix. Now, with Byleth added in, he fits much more comfortably into the _ detached noble _ role -- someone condescending, someone arrogant, someone _ confident_. Someone who knew what they wanted and didn’t have to lift a finger to get it. 

The _ look _ he settles upon her is cold, haughty -- much the impatient noble waiting for their servant to get a move on. Byleth turns her nose up at him, refusing to submit, and Felix shrugs, unaffected.

His next move has him settling between Byleth’s legs, and, as he gets comfortable, he gives Sylvain the go-ahead to speak freely. 

Mouth unlocked, words spill from Sylvain’s lips like a waterfall. 

“_C’mon_, professor, you’ve never thought about Edelgard’s tits? _ Never? _ You’ve never thought about how fucken’ _ strong _ she must be, wielding that axe and dragging all that armor around? _ By Seiros_, professor, she could probably crush my head between her thighs,” Sylvain rambled, “You’ve never admired Claude’s _ face? _ With a smile like that, you _ know _ he could eat you out like a _ god -_\- he’s probably good with his dick too, knows how to hit all the right places… damn, maybe _I _ should fuck Claude,” 

Felix rolls his eyes, somewhat amused by Sylvain’s lecherous thoughts, and sets to work sucking at Byleth’s clit and thumbing at her entrance, working her up until she’s kicking at his hips. 

“Felix- _ please_,” she cries, fighting against the hands that hold her hips down to the bed, refusing to let her thrust into his teasing swipes. 

Felix ignores her. Sylvain keeps talking. 

“And what about crown prince _ Dimitri_, professor? You know he’s had his eye on you since you first came here -- probably wanked his princely dick to thoughts of you every night,” Sylvain chuckles, pinching her nipples until she arches into his hands. “_Now _ look at him -- he’s fucken’ _ tall -_\- probably filled out downstairs, if you know what I mean-”

“Stop beating around the bush, Sylvain,” Felix spoke up, taking a break from tonguing at the sensitive underside of Byleth’s clit. 

“_Fat cock,_” Sylvain spits out, as if Felix has wrenched it from his throat. “Probably split you open on it -- you’d like that, right, By?” 

Byleth, hung up on Felix’s teasing, all but _ moans_, “_Anything_, fill me up with _ anything -_\- _ please, _” 

“That’s better,” Felix hums, satisfied, and slips a finger into the clutch of her heat. 

Considering how absolutely _ soaked _ she is, one finger quickly proves to be lacking, and as soon as he slides a second finger into her heat, Byleth nearly breaks out of Sylvain’s hold. 

“Steady now, professor,” Sylvain smiles as he adjusts her wrists in his grip. “Just a little longer and you’ll get what you want.” 

Byleth whines and drops her head to lie against the redhead’s chest, chest heaving while Felix works her over with two fingers against her sensitive walls and his mouth against her clit. 

“I can’t believe it,” Felix’s tone goes dreamy as he lifts his head to mouth at her thighs where they flex by his ears, “If we hadn’t snatched you up, who _ knows _ where you would’ve ended up. Everybody’s _ favorite _ commander, a hot commodity in this monastery,”

He winds her up higher and higher while he talks, knowing well enough what she likes, rubbing up against _ that spot _ and teasing her clit until her stomach starts to clench and her walls start to flutter. 

“It’s a good thing you ended up with us, huh, Byleth?” Felix murmurs, pressing his teeth into the sensitive skin of her thighs -- not hard enough to break skin, but enough to remind her he was there. “Sylvain and I, we’ll give you everything you need, yeah?” 

Byleth nods and nods and nods, mindless as she reaches the edge, so close she can practically _ taste _ it. 

“Say please,” Felix intones -- and Byleth doesn’t even _ hesitate_, breathless _ please, please, please, _falling from kiss-swollen lips until deft fingers and a greedy mouth push her up and over the top, into orgasmic bliss. 

Felix teases at her walls while they suck and clench at his fingers and tongues at her clit until her thighs quake, tipping her into overstimulation. 

“Felix- _ Felix_\- that’s enough, I’m-” 

Felix ignores her. 

“You’ll take what I give you,” he informs her, setting a stern maroon gaze onto her pleading face. 

“_Felix,_” Byleth pleads again, trying to close her legs to shield herself from his unrelenting attention. But she doesn't tap out.

Felix knows why Byleth tries to avoid back-to-back orgasms -- but only because he and Sylvain have wrung some out of her _ once _ before. That _ one _ time gave Felix two very important bits of insight. One, multiple orgasms tend to string Byleth out, siphoning her energy until all she can do is lie beneath them and take whatever they give. Two, Byleth doesn’t _ like _ lying there and taking whatever they can give, not because she doesn’t like being able to give in return (like Sylvain), but because she doesn’t like giving up _ control. _

But _ that _ is Felix’s entire _ goal_. 

So as Byleth’s orgasm subsides, leaving her sensitive and twitching beneath him, Felix doesn’t let her come down. Instead, he slides a third finger into the clutch of her cunt, bends to suck on her engorged clit, and pinpoints her g-spot with the pads of his fingers. 

“Felix- _ Felix-_” Byleth chants -- somewhere between pleading for release and pleading to be released, unwilling to relinquish her carefully maintained control. 

“Relax. You’re too wound up, By,” Felix murmurs, his voice buzzing against her sensitive folds, “Be good and take it, won’t you?” 

While Felix settles into a rhythm, abusing Byleth’s g-spot, Sylvain begins to lose control -- too turned on by the combination of Felix’s dirty mouth and the lewd noises said mouth is making against Byleth’s spasming cunt. He tries to be discreet about it, but nobody is fooled by the cant of his hips towards Byleth’s thigh. 

“_Speak_, Sylvain,” Felix grants the redhead permission -- just as his hands start inching towards his crotch.

“By- Byleth,” Sylvain grunts, his fingers digging into her sides from the force of which he’s holding himself back, “Can I- can I fuck your tits?”

“Wrong person,” Felix calls out again, snagging Sylvain’s bleary, half-lidded attention. “You should be asking _ me _ if you can play with our pretty plaything.” 

Byleth grits her teeth through a second orgasm, her back arching off the bed, her thighs tightening around Felix’s head. Sylvain pets over Byleth’s head, combing through her hair, and smiles down at her flushed cheeks. 

“Can I fuck Byleth’s tits?” The redhead repeats -- asking Felix this time, not Byleth -- and Felix can _ feel _ Byleth clench around his fingers, obviously aroused by being talked around like a toy. 

“Go ahead.” Felix relents- and Sylvain immediately lets go of Byleth’s hands and clambers on top of her.

The swordsman kind of wishes he could watch while Sylvain’s cock disappears between Byleth’s plush tits, kind of wishes he could watch the tip of his dick bump up against pink lips, kind of wishes he could be there to thumb at her bottom lip until her mouth opens to accommodate the head of Sylvain’s cock as he thrusts between the valley of her breasts -- but he figures Sylvain has that covered.

Felix is a little more occupied bringing about Byleth’s third orgasm -- and _ fast_, he hopes, because his own throbbing cock has been sorely neglected, and he hopes to remedy that soon. 

The constant slew of noises pouring from Byleth’s lips only pauses when she stops to suck on (what Felix assumes is) the head of Sylain’s dick as it presses against her lips, and the soft sounds of Sylvain’s thrusts between even softer skin is _ really _ lighting a fire in Felix’s stomach -- fanning the flames higher than he thought they could go. 

“Come now, Byleth,” Felix hums, a grin curving against her thigh, “Give me _ one _ more. And Sylvain,” he speaks up, catching the redhead’s attention, “Don’t take too long.” 

Sylvain casts a wide grin over his shoulder before returning to his work -- and Felix hears him start to babble, a sure sign that he’s close to coming undone. 

_ Look so pretty like this, By, _

_ Gonna ruin you tonight, okay? Gonna use you ‘til you’re nice and soft, open and wet for me to slip inside, _

_ Would you like that, By? Want me to fill you up, keep you nice and full? _

Even when he doesn’t mean what he says, Sylvain’s got a way with words -- but that silver tongue cuts even _ deeper _when sincerity laces every syllable.

Felix _ thinks _ it’s Sylvain’s babbling that pushes Byleth over the edge for a third time with a little yowl, and he watches her fingers curl into Sylvain’s hips until she leaves little crescent moons of red behind, her hips jerking to the rhythm he’s set with his fingers. 

Sylvain comes not long behind her, spilling over her tits with a long groan. He swings himself off of their professor’s chest, revealing the sight of an absolutely _ debauched _ Byleth to Felix’s eyes. 

Spattered with cum, red flushed across her cheeks, mouth open and panting, eyes half-lidded -- the whole package. Their professor truly looks like a top-notch whore, a treat just for them to devour. 

And, like a dream come true, when Felix lifts his head from between her thighs -- licking sweet, slick juices from his lips -- she looks down, locks eyes with him, and whispers, _ more. _

The grin that pulls at Felix’s lips can hardly be classified as a smile. It’s predatorial, pleased, and possessive. 

“I think,” Felix tosses the words to Sylvain, and the redhead tilts his head blearily in his direction (always knocked a little out of orbit after an orgasm, that one). “Our pretty plaything just asked for _ more_. Did you hear that, ‘vain?” 

Sylvain nods and leans himself up against the wall, eyeing Felix in wait for what’s next to come. 

“_I _ think,” Felix begins again, standing up straight and clambering onto the bed, sitting beside Sylvain with a gentle _ thump _ against the wall, “You haven’t put any work in to deserve any _ more_.”

Despite still shuddering through the aftershocks of her third consecutive orgasm, Byleth seems to get the idea. 

She pushes herself onto her hands and knees and crawls towards them, and -- after a moment of hesitation and a jerk of the head from Felix -- climbs onto the swordsman’s lap. 

“We’ll let Sylvain recover a little, yeah?” He hums, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Byleth merely nods, then bends to help him remove his smalls. 

Just _ looking _ at the state of the woman in front of him has him at full mast, so there’s really no need for the one-two-three strokes Byleth bestows upon him, but he takes them anyways. 

It’s only when she shuffles atop him once more, spreads her legs over his hips, and _ sinks _ down onto his cock -- pulling a full-bodied moan from Byleth’s throat as he settles up against her cervix, snug and warm, like he was _ meant _ to be there -- that Felix raises an eyebrow. 

“Just a question, love,” he pipes up -- and the pet names coming from _ his mouth _ are a different animal entirely from Sylvain. When Sylvain says them, Byleth feels fluttery inside. When _ Felix _ says them -- especially in _ this _ setting -- she feels like a commonplace whore, someone he never bothered to learn the name of.

A hole for him to fuck.

“Not that I mind, but,” Felix trails a single finger down her side, making her shiver, “Why not use your mouth?”

Byleth aims her best fucked-out smile at him and replies, “Only the best for you, sir.”

_ That _ pushes a couple buttons for Felix, and he grants her a lazy smile before tipping his head back to lean against the wall -- as if he couldn't care less that a beautiful woman was planning to ride his dick until he came. 

“Perfect. You may begin.” 

And as Byleth settles into a rhythm (up, down, shiver, _ moan_), Felix settles back against the wall. 

_ Yes, _ Felix muses, concentrating solely on the wet _ squelch _ of her walls around him, _ this is nice_. She’d been fucked loose enough by his fingers and a couple orgasms, but a dick was still a dick, and the initial stretch of her walls accommodating him had been _ heavenly. _

He didn’t lift a finger to help her along, left the raising and lowering of her weight entirely up to the strength of those lovely thighs. 

Maybe if he’d wrung one more orgasm out of her, she’d be jelly-legged and perfect for maneuvering as he pleased, but having her bouncing in his lap, pawing at his chest, and whining like a bitch in heat was an alternative he was willing to accept. 

While she struggled to keep a rhythm, still spearing herself on his cock like she needed it to breathe, Felix turned his attention to the man beside him. He lifted a hand to cup his cheek, stroked over the stubble of the beard he still hadn’t shaved (even though Ingrid would _ not _ stop complaining about it), and guided his lips to his.

“What an honor,” Sylvain teases after Felix releases him from an astoundingly gentle kiss.

“I know how you get after cumming,” Felix murmurs in return, brushing his thumb just underneath honey-gold eyes. “Don’t say I never take care of you.” 

Sylvain hums and shifts in his spot, leaning closer to the swordsman beside him in order to press another kiss to pale lips. “You _ spoil _ me, Fee,” his voice buzzes against Felix’s lips, accompanied by a giddy smile the redhead just can’t seem to tamp down. 

(It makes Felix want to smile back, and he’s a little _ busy _ with something, at the moment.)

While his preoccupation shakes and shivers in his lap, Felix turns a bored gaze her way, assessing the situation at hand. 

She was clearly struggling to lift her weight with only the strength of her thighs -- and occasionally an arm pressed to Felix’s chest -- and she was bent so far over in exhaustion that he could feel her hot breath against his collarbones. 

Still, regardless of her quickly diminishing strength, she still rippled and clenched around him, desperate to squeeze ever more pleasure out of the man beneath her. 

“She’s dedicated,” Felix muses -- and Sylvain nods, kissing his swordsman’s cheek while keeping an eye on the spot where Felix’s cock disappears into Byleth’s heat. “Would you like a turn on her next?” 

Byleth chokes out a moan at the statement, reaching her limit already and going a little weak in the knees at the prospect of being pushed _ beyond _ her limits. 

Sylvain considers the offer, but as his eyes stayed fixed between their legs, something mischievous glitters in those sunset eyes. 

“Why wait?” Sylvain grins, finally meeting Felix’s questioning gaze. “Let me fuck her ass while you finish up.” 

The broken _ oohhh, _ that falls from Byleth’s lips catches both of their attention, and Felix hesitates -- unsure if it's a positive or a negative sound. 

However, before he can even think to speak up to clarify, Byleth collapses against his chest and cranes her head back to look at him, her cheek pressed to his pecs as she repeats, “_please, please fill me up, please," _until he presses a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“Of course,” Felix sighs, feigning resignation, “How could I expect the professor who took on Garreg Mach Academy to be satisfied with just _ one _cock plugging up her holes,” he wondered, thumbing at her lips. 

“Prepare her first,” Felix nods to Sylvain, urging him to go ahead. 

The redhead scoffs, muttering _ what do you take me for? _ while digging around in Felix’s bedside drawer until he draws a bottle of oil from its depths. 

Sylvain doesn't waste any time slicking his fingers up and toying with her entrance. He grins to himself as she wiggles and bucks into his ministrations as best as she can while still being pinned in place by Felix’s cock. 

The entry of the first finger into her channel is accompanied by an uncharacteristically _ whiny _ moan from their professor. Her hands clench into weak fists atop Felix’s chest as Sylvain properly preps her, and she peppers Felix’s face with kisses in the hopes that he'd return the gesture.

“Will this be enough, lovely?” Felix wonders, making no move to kiss her back despite her fervor. “Maybe we need to call on Fat Cock Dimitri to fill your pretty mouth too,” he muses -- eliciting a snort from Sylvain at the nickname. “Maybe Claude and his skilled dick would satisfy you more- _ or _ would you rather occupy your mouth with Edelgard’s breasts?”

Byleth gives up on trying to kiss him and resigns herself to shaking her head as fervently as she can. 

“You, you, only you,” she cries, gasping as Sylvain strokes two fingers along the thin wall that separates him from Felix’s cock. “Only you can have me like this, only you,” 

Felix rewards her with a kiss -- though it's clearly too fleeting for her liking. 

“Good answer,” the swordsman growls, letting lingering feelings of self-doubt and insecurity fuel his current role. “Now, are you going to keep riding my cock? Or are you going to let us use you like the pretty plaything you are?” 

Byleth pants against his cheek -- likely overwhelmed by the three _ thick _fingers pumping in and out of her ass. 

“I can’t hear you,” Sylvain pipes up, slicking up his own dick with his free hand. 

“_Use me,_” Byleth rushes the words out, as if the opportunity will pass by in an instant. “Just fuck me, _ please_, wanna- mm!- wanna feel you- feel you _ both _ inside me,” 

Felix’s eyes darken, lust consuming him at the sound of his lovely professor’s desperate pleas. 

“Let us take care of you, then,” Felix murmurs, sitting Byleth up so Sylvain can steady her while Felix maneuvers himself upright as well. Byleth’s head bobs in a tired nod, and as Sylvain pulls her up off of Felix’s dick, all she can manage in response is a shallow gasp.

Felix sits up on his knees in front of Sylvain, who’s also up on his knees while he supports Byleth. Using their combined strength, they lift her up to rest on their hips and sling her arms over Felix’s shoulders. Felix supports her thighs, and Sylvain wraps his stupidly big hands around Byleth’s waist. 

With one hand, Felix lines himself back up to her entrance, plugs her opening with his head, then grips Sylvain’s dick to steady it while the redhead maneuvers her body until she can sink down onto the both of them. 

The initial plunge _ completely _ whites Felix’s vision out. His hearing fizzles out too, all other sound drowning under the rush of blood in his ears. 

For a moment, all he could feel was the pulse of his own dick, surrounded by slick, wet, _ tight _heat, pressed against the unmistakable weight of Sylvain’s length. 

Then, all at once, the world clicked back into place.

“_Fuck_,” Sylvain groans, breathing hot against Byleth’s spine. “_Fuuuck,_”

Felix tests their precarious balance with a snap of his hips, and Byleth seizes and goes boneless in the blink of an eye, dropping completely against Felix’s chest. 

“_Fuck_, By, you’re so- you’re _ so_\- _ augh_-” Sylvain howls, following Felix’s example and thrusting _ one two three _quick snaps of his hips, unable to control himself. 

With all three of them stretched so thin, they didn’t have enough brainpower to dedicate to taking it slow and figuring it out. Felix and Sylvain fell into a frenzied rhythm, sometimes trading blows, sometimes thrusting in at the same time -- punching the breath right out of Byleth’s lungs every time. 

Felix held her legs up while Sylvain raised and lowered her hips, moving her to their whims like a doll. 

She certainly _ looked _ the part of a fucked out doll -- what with her head lolling against Felix’s shoulder, her legs splayed around Felix’s hips, limbs limp and jostled with every wild thrust. Felix managed to release one of her thighs so he could reach up to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull her head upright. Her mouth fell open in a strained moan, and Felix swallowed the sound down as he sealed his lips over hers in a frantic clash of teeth and tongue. 

With sensation flooding his system, heat coiling low in his gut, Sylvain’s cock sliding deliciously against his with every stroke, and Byleth weakly sucking his tongue into her mouth,

With Sylvain’s desperate mantra of _ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _ the salacious bounce of Byleth’s breasts every time Sylvain dropped her hips down to meet his, the weak flutter of overstimulated walls as Byleth tumbled into a _fourth_ orgasm without any warning,

Felix is done for. 

With a guttural growl into Byleth’s mouth, his nails digging into the skin of her thigh as he hiked her legs up tighter around his hips, Felix’s hips kicked one-two-three more times before sliding home.

He spent himself against the entrance to her womb -- which was likely sensitive and battered from his relentless thrusts and her countless orgasms -- groaning and nipping at her ears, her jaw, her throat, leaving little speckles of red behind to mark her. 

_ Mine mine mine!! _

As Felix came down from his high, thoroughly spent, Sylvain muffled a pitiful moan into Byleth’s shoulder -- and Felix _ felt _ the cavalier’s cock pulse as he buried himself deep in Byleth’s molten heat. 

It took… _ several _ minutes for the three of them to fully collect themselves. Slumped against each other, limbs tangled, it took several _ more _ minutes to release Byleth from being sandwiched between them, allowing them to all lay out on Felix’s bed, legs hanging limply over the edge as they caught their breath. 

The first to speak was, surprisingly, Byleth, with a tiny, “_fuck._”

Something about her tone vaulted Felix into a sitting position, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to begin the aftercare he’d entirely forgotten. 

“No, nonono,” Byleth rasps, grabbing weakly at his arm before he slid entirely off the bed. “Stay.” 

Felix stares down at his professor (his commander, his lover, his _ Byleth_), taking in her disheveled state -- and, most of all, the look in her eyes as she watched him get up to leave. 

“I just wanted to help clean you up,” Felix murmured as he crawled back onto the bed to lie next to her. “I wasn’t leaving.” 

Byleth shook her head, and Sylvain pulled her hair back from where it fell into her eyes as a result of the motion. 

“Just want you to stay.” She insists, ever so gently touching his cheek. 

Sylvain slips an arm around her waist and pulls her back to his chest, and Felix takes note of the way her eyes flutter closed. 

Content. 

_ Safe_.

Felix, he… he figures after the treatment she’s been given and the words he’s spoken, she had every right to demand he stick by her side for a moment. 

She gladly welcomes him into her arms, happily pillows his head against her chest. She’s _ warm_. 

_ She’s safe. _

_ She’s safe with you, and you’re safe with her. _

_ And Sylvain’s safe with her, and you- _

“What, may I ask, brought this about?” Byleth piped up after enough time had passed that Felix lost himself in his thoughts. He shook himself out of it and refocused on her spring green eyes, sorting through potential answers. 

“I told you already,” he finally decides on grumbling, “I’d been thinking about it for a while.” 

“Yes, yes, but,” Byleth waves that off, ever the one to get to the root of things, “What brought _ this _ about.” 

Felix feels his face flushing red, his pale skin always eager to color his entire face with a blush if given the chance. 

“Well,” Felix wheedles, loathe to answer truthfully, embarrassed by the reason, “It might’ve started somewhere around the time the boar decided to put his boarish fucking hands on you.” 

Sylvain sighs at the nickname, wondering “_don’t you have anything else to refer to him by,_” under his breath- where he’s _ conveniently _ safe, tucked behind Byleth. 

Whether Byleth huffs out a laugh at Felix’s explanation or Sylvain’s comment, Felix will never know. She bends to press a kiss to his forehead without explaining further.

But maybe her dry chuckle had less to do with either of their current actions.

Maybe it had more to do with her amused mutter of _“Fat Cock Dimitri,” _and the accompanying laugh as she laid her head back to rest on Sylvain’s sturdy chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sorry about the note I ended this one on. Not at all.
> 
> jesus flipping crisp I gotta say, this chapter tied me to the ceiling fan and turned that bad boy up to HIGH. I fought tooth and nail with this chapter. I literally hated everything I wrote, over and over, until I gave up and just kept writing until something felt right. Luckily, I did stumble upon the reason why I hated what I was writing (see: the paragraph about Felix searching for and finding his role to play), and fixed up the rest of it before I burned it to the ground and started over anew. 
> 
> Please, please, PLEASE, for the love of god, let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. I struggled so bad with it, and I'm STILL not sure if I like it. 
> 
> And, as always, hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iridescentai) or [Tumblr](https://iridescentai.tumblr.com) to talk about stuff :)


	4. the time everyone swapped bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember how I complained about the last chapter tying me to the ceiling fan and letting loose? Yeah, I knew nothing of pain then. I was a fool. This chapter, THIS CHAPTER... aside from my motivation to write being as fickle as the summer breeze, the sheer insanity of keeping THREE SWAPPED BODIES straight without it being confusing? I'm... I hope u guys enjoy 😤🙄😖😬
> 
> Disclaimer: if you're uncomfortable with trans language (aka his breasts, her dick, etc) this chapter is not for you. Also, this body swap concept is purely for fun! This is in no way discrediting other writers/artists' perceptions of Byleth/Sylvain/Felix as trans or cis. Mostly, I'm just poking fun at the difference between Sylvain, Byleth, and Felix's bodies as I've set them up in this story so far, and exploring how the three of them would adjust to bodies they're not used to.
> 
> tags: body swap!!, massages, reference to unwanted objectification, masturbation, handjobs, blowjobs, office sex, semi-exhibitionism (anybody could walk by), Annette is doing her goddamn best but these horny bastards sure are a handful, just....lots of sex and some feelings sprinkled in

"Felix," Leonie called, slowing to a stop beside the swordsman. "I have a question, just real quick, about-"

Felix turned on his heel, his ponytail swishing over his shoulder as two swift steps brought him eye to eye with the redheaded hunter.

"Anything you need, sweetheart," the swordsman hummed, sizing her up with a suave lick of his lips.

Leonie rolled her eyes and huffed, a sharp _ tch _ clicking between her teeth. "Right. I forgot." She muttered, stepping away with a disdainful glare in Felix's direction. "You're not Felix."

The raised eyebrows and tilted smirk didn't disappear off of "Felix's" face. 

"I can be whoever you want, baby," "Felix" continued, taking another step forwards, chasing after her. 

"Ugh, _ Sylvain," _ Leonie gagged, backpedaling even further. "_Stop_. It's even _ weirder _ in Felix's body."

Felix- or more accurately, _ Sylvain_\- broke down in giggles. "It's even _ funnier _ in his body!" 

Leonie rolled her eyes. "No, it's _ not_." She grimaced, her lip curling. "It's _ worse_, because my sparring partner is gone!"

"Don't be so dramatic. You'll get him back," Sylvain waved her off, flipping long hair over narrow shoulders. "But until then, _ I'm _ Felix."

Leonie didn't grace him with a response. She just turned on her heel and left.

\---

"Professor, _ Professor-_"

"For _ fuck’s _ sake," Byleth snapped, green eyes blazing as she turned to peer over her shoulder, “I heard you the first _ six _ times, Ignatz. _ What?!_”

Ignatz staggered backwards atop the grass of the lawn just outside of the first floor dormitories, green eyes blown wide open in total shock.

“Ex-excuse me, Professor,” he stammered as he regained his footing, “If this is a bad time, I’ll leave you be- so sorry-”

Byleth rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh, pressing a weary hand to her forehead. “Ignatz, wait,”

At the call of his name, the archer paused in his frantic retreat, freezing mid-step. 

“Haven’t you heard?” She hesitantly asked, letting the question hang in the air between them until Ignatz’s silence spoke for itself. “The professor and Sylvain and I all… swapped bodies. Somehow.” 

Ignatz merely stared, wide eyed and nearly open-mouthed. “The professor and Sylvain and… who?”

“Felix,” the inhabitant of Byleth’s body finally revealed themselves, “I’m Felix.” 

There was a moment where Felix swore he could see the gears in the archer’s head turning, as green eyes passed over mint green hair, then traveled to the obvious furrow between usually slack brows and the pinched corners of her mouth. 

“You’re Felix.” Ignatz finally echoed. 

A beat, then,

“Y’know, if you felt bad about shouting at me, you didn’t have to come up with such a tall tale to make up for it,” the archer finally hazarded a response, squinting at his professor.

Byleth- or, well, Felix- let out an exasperated huff and dragged calloused fingers through green hair. 

(These fingers were shorter than the ones he was used to, but at least they had the same familiar callouses from years of swordsmanship. There are some callouses he’s not familiar with- likely from Byleth’s diligent training with nearly every kind of weapon- and he knows it’s _ his _ consciousness that itches for a hair tie every time he feels hair brush over the back of his neck.)

“What do you want me to _ say_, Ignatz?” Felix demanded, the arms of the professor he inhabited crossing over a chest that was… _ much _ more ample than he was used to. (That, and the heels she wore, were the two biggest things he had trouble getting used to.) 

“Wh- I don’t _ know,_” Ignatz sputtered, “It just seems very implausible that-”

“That you asked Raphael to braid me a new hair tie out of leather strips because mine kept breaking? That I’ve seen your dick in the baths more times than I can count? That I know you’re working on a painting of Byleth as Sothis because you decided to set up shop in my favorite training spot in the hills?”

“_Alright- _ that’s _ enough!!_” Ignatz hissed, quickly going red in the face. “I believe you- _ I believe you-_” he rushed to say before Felix could spout any more incriminating details out here in the open where _anyone_ could hear. “Goddess above, Felix, _ you said you’d keep that a secret!_” 

“And I have,” Felix promised. “No one knows but me.”

Ignatz shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye, clearly still put off by the Professor speaking these words to him. 

“Felix, I mean,” the swordsman quickly added, realizing his mistake, “Not the Professor.”

“Right.” Ignatz nodded, but Felix got the impression he was more confused than disbelieving. “So… how do you swap back?” 

Felix's shoulders slumped as his arms crossed over his chest, and he was, once again, taken off guard by the clank of his chest piece against his arm guards so quickly in his arms' ascent. 

(How does Byleth _ function _ with these in the way???)

“It’s just a spell gone awry. Apparently we just have to wait for it to wear off.” 

\---

“Edelgard,” 

The exiled empress slowed at the sound of her voice, but she didn’t stop entirely. Hubert, the ever present shadow at her side, spoke up instead. 

“What could you possibly want from Her Majesty,” Said shadow sneered, blocking the path between the woman cloaked in red and, “_Sylvain?_”

Sylvain didn’t back down from Hubert’s glowering grimace, leaving the dark mage to attempt to tower menacingly over the redhead, despite only standing an inch taller than the man before him.

“You’re so venomous,” Sylvain noted, completely calm in the face of what might as well have been a cobra itself. “I know you and Sylvain spend time together playing chess. What’s this about?”

Hubert’s (already narrowed) eyes creased even deeper, hiding his confusion with a show of even more menace.

“Hubert, stand down,” Edelgard waved off her watchdog- though the other gloved hand hovered over her mouth, hiding a smile. “It’s merely the Professor come to discuss matters of politics with me.”

“Respectfully, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert began, clearly ready to correct her in the nicest (as Hubert could manage) way possible, but Edelgard raised a hand, silencing him. 

“You were still heading home from your last excursion when the news was announced,” she remembered, patting him on the shoulder before stepping out from behind him (where he’d bodily blocked Sylvain from coming any closer). “The Professor, Sylvain, and Felix have all swapped bodies, for the time being.”

Hubert lifted an eyebrow- well, as well as he could, without eyebrows to lift- and settled a look of clear mistrust upon the redhead before him. “Is that so?” 

Sensing his disbelief as clearly as Edelgard was, Byleth took a turn explaining. 

“Remember the spellbook you brought me last week? The one filled with old spells lost to translation because no one speaks that dialect anymore?” Byleth recalled, looking to Hubert for confirmation. Slowly, begrudgingly, he nodded assent. “Well, I brought it to Hanneman for a second opinion, and he recognized some text as an old variant of language from the Faerghus domain. He recommended I bring the book to Annette.” 

Realization began to dawn upon the dark mage, the crease in between his "eyebrows" lifting ever so slightly. "I'm beginning to understand how things went amiss."

"Now, Hubert," Edelgard chastised her personal shadow. "Watch your tongue."

Watching amusement glitter in Sylvain's honey brown eyes the same way it would in their professor's usual blue-green only made the situation weirder. 

"Annette was familiar with the language, but not fluent," Byleth continued.

"And she decided to read one aloud." Hubert guessed. 

"Well," Byleth wheedled, tilting her head back and forth, ginger curls tumbling across her forehead. "You know she has that habit of mumbling under her breath when she reads. She didn't _ know _ it was a spell. She thought it was something of an explanation."

"Clearly," Hubert murmured, eyeing her (well... eyeing Sylvain) up and down, "that was not the case."

Byleth rolled her eyes, crossing muscular arms over a muscular chest. "No, it wasn't."

\---

"You know, it's really not that bad," Sylvain sang, combing through long, shiny black hair in front of Felix's mirror in his room.

"It's _ not that bad?!_" Felix demanded, stomping one booted heel on the wooden floors. "Maybe not for _you_. You've still got the same _ parts!_"

"Oh, don't be a baby," Sylvain stuck his tongue out at the younger man, "It's not the end of the world just because you've suddenly got tiddies." 

"I'm not upset with our current situation," Byleth mused, interrupting whatever annoyed string of words Felix had intended to snap back with. "Check this out."

She strolled over to Felix and wrapped big hands around his (her own???) tiny waist and _ lifted. _

And Felix, in turn, (thanks to Byleth's voice) made the most _ undignified squeal _ of his entire life, propped up there in the air above Sylvain's (Byleth's, really) head.

Felix's signature grating laugh tore through the room as Sylvain's mirth rang loud and clear at the sight (and more likely, the _ sound_) of Felix's distress. 

"I'm just not built this way," Byleth mused aloud, shifting on her feet enough to toss Felix in the air just a tad. Felix yelped again and reached out frantically for purchase, but his arms (Byleth's body was much shorter than Sylvain's) could not reach far enough to support him.

Fortunately, Byleth soon set him down.

Unfortunately, Felix was not quite used to Byleth's body (nor her heels), and he stumbled when he touched down, tumbling back, arms wheeling.

Felix caught Byleth.

Or, well, Sylvain caught Felix. Which meant that, technically, Felix caught Felix.

In truth, Sylvain in Felix's body caught Felix in Byleth's body.

"How do you _ FUNCTION _ in these?!" Felix screeched, lifting his foot to wave a heeled boot at the two of them. 

Byleth shrugged, expression as impassive as usual. (Except, it was Sylvain's expression lying flat. Which was actually… kind of unusual.)

"I'm used to it, I guess," she mused, watching Felix regain (unsteady) footing on his own two feet. "You'll get used to it, too."

"I don't want to get used to it. I _ want _ my body back." Felix grumbled. "The longer that oaf has my body, the more consequences I'll face when I get it back."

"Hey!" Sylvain cried, offended, "this oaf has been taking _ great _ care of your body."

"Somehow," the swordsman groaned, "that makes me feel even worse."

"_What,_" Sylvain drawled, lips curling up in a smile anyone would recognize on Sylvain's face, but looked entirely out of place on Felix's. "Like you're not even curious?"

Felix stiffened, his back straightening out of the slouch he'd found himself in for most of the day. "I _ don't _ know what you mean."

"You said it yourself, Fee," Sylvain reminded him, "I'm the only one with the same _ parts_, as you so delicately put it."

Sylvain watched as Byleth's normally impassive demeanor scrunched up, Felix's signature blush rising to flush Byleth's fair cheeks. It really was something else to see Byleth's face blushing and scowling and pouting in ways more expressive than he'd ever seen her- all courtesy of Felix's mind trapped in their stoic professor's body.

The same odd feeling arose while looking in a mirror. Seeing Felix's lips stretch into the smiles Sylvain had perfected over the years made Sylvain….uncomfortable. 

That wasn't Felix's smile. Felix's smile was never fake. He never smiled unless he really, _ really _ meant it. 

Felix didn't wear a smile as a mask. Felix didn't need to wield a smile as a weapon.

Although… Sylvain didn't mind softening his usual Gautier Smile into something softer and smaller, dialing it back until the expression looked at home on Felix's face. 

He couldn't say he didn't _ enjoy _ seeing Felix smile back at him, even if it wasn't actually real. 

Because, in the present moment, Felix looked ready to strangle Sylvain- even if it meant choking out his own body.

"Sylvain has a point," Byleth interrupted them. "I can't say I'm quite used to something hanging between my legs while I walk."

"Imagine how I feel," Felix huffed. "There's _ nothing there. NOTHING._"

"Oh, there is quite certainly something there," Byleth cut off the swordsman's griping. "You just have to go looking for it."

Felix flushed red again, and Sylvain took a moment to bask in the rare sight of Byleth blushing once more.

"I've also been meaning to ask," Byleth piped up again, breaking Felix's stunned silence, "How are the breasts treating you?"

Unconsciously, Felix lifted a hand to Byleth's breastplate, holding the cool metal in his palm.

Finally, after a moment of serious contemplation, he looked up at Byleth (weird, to look up at Byleth and see Sylvain…) and announced:

"My back hurts."

Byleth nodded, as if she'd expected this. "Come here."

\---

Byleth had him sit on the edge of his own bed and kick his boots off (goodbye heels!!) so that she could perch behind him. As soon as she'd started massaging into his tired muscles with Sylvain's big, _ strong _ hands, Felix had nearly toppled over in relief.

That's when Sylvain had stepped in, standing in front of him so Felix could lean on him for support.

"_Sothis above,_" Felix sighed, slumping further into Sylvain's (well, really his own) chest as strong hands kneaded into the ache in his back. 

"I've never heard so many pretty noises from our professor before," Sylvain noted, brushing green hair off of flushed cheeks. "I think you've even begun to drool, Felix,"

Felix tried to shut his mouth, just to prove Sylvain wrong, but another hard knead into the small of his back eased his lips apart in a low groan despite his efforts.

"It is odd to hear my own voice be so… _ vocal_." Byleth agreed. Another knead into the middle of Felix’s (her own??) back tore a pleased sigh from parted lips. "I must say, it is _ also _ odd to hear Felix's voice so often."

Sylvain shrugged. “We all agreed we wouldn’t pretend to be the other person while in their bodies. There’s no use in me grouching around like the usual Felix.” 

Felix didn't even bother to attempt a rebuke.

“I’m quite familiar with all of my most sore muscles, so this is as much for you as it is for me.” Byleth mused, mostly to herself, as she pressed a thumb into the muscle that ran alongside the spine. “This’ll be a real treat to come back to.”

“Just say the word, my love, and I’ll treat you to a massage whenever you want.” Sylvain piped up, vermillion eyes sparkling as he smiled at his own body. 

Byleth smiled back- and Sylvain was surprised at how clearly Byleth’s usual soft smile translated through his own features. 

He’d never looked in the mirror and seen _ soft _ before, but there it was right in front of him, written all over his own face.

“I do have a question, though,” Byleth remembered as she leaned forwards to dig an elbow into a particularly tough knot. 

(Felix’s responding moan was nearly pornographic, and a glance down at the blush coloring the fair cheeks beneath him told Sylvain that Felix was quite aware of the noise he had just made.)

“Is it normal for erections to occur seemingly on a whim?” 

Felix’s head popped up, craning his neck to stare over his shoulder at Byleth, who seemed completely unperturbed by the words she had just spoken. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Sylvain admitted. 

“What do you _ mean_, on a whim,” Felix demanded almost simultaneously.

Byleth looked between the two, calculations running wild in brilliant amber eyes. 

“Well,” she began slowly, letting up on her attack on Felix’s (Byleth’s) back in order to address the matter at hand, “I was discussing shopping lists and supply runs with Hilda and Dedue, and… it just… happened.” 

Felix stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, but Sylvain just laughed. 

“Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to it,” the cavalier admitted with a shrug, “You just gotta roll with it.” 

“Really?” Felix squawked, “You just… _ for no reason?_” 

Sylvain eyed the swordswoman with a frown. “Do you only get hard when you’re specifically thinking of something hot?” 

Felix’s face lit up red (for the 50th time that evening), and- through a lot of embarrassed spluttering- confirmed Sylvain’s statement. 

“I merely wondered,” Byleth spoke up again, taking the spotlight off of the embarrassed man in between them. “It happens occasionally in my own body, I’m just not used to such a… visible response. Usually, I stand up, find my smalls wet for no reason, and go on with my day.” 

“_That’s _what that is?” Felix yelped. Byleth merely nodded, unperturbed. “That’s disconcerting,” he mumbled, shifting in his seat on the edge of the bed. 

“It is a little off putting, but at least you can ignore it and go about your day. An erection is much more unwieldy than I previously thought.” Byleth grumbled, the corners of Sylvain’s mouth tightening at the corners as she frowned. 

Felix agreed- but the tone of his voice snagged Sylvain’s attention, and he looked down to see a familiar look (native to both Felix _ and _ Byleth) on the swordswoman’s (man’s??) face. 

“What’s got the gears turning up in that head of yours?” Sylvain wondered, tapping Felix’s temple. 

To his surprise, Felix blushed again, but he still managed to answer despite his embarrassment.

“Next time,” his response came soft and low- and hearing Byleth’s sultry timbre while _ knowing _ it was Felix speaking made the shivers running down Sylvain’s spine all the more delicious. “Next time, you should send for one of us to take care of it.” 

\---

“I’ve got to say,” Ingrid mused, dodging a half-assed blow from Sylvain’s lance, “Seeing Felix’s body act like you is _ inordinate _ amounts of odd, but seeing your body act like the _ professor _ is somehow… stranger.” She confessed, green eyes straying over to where their professor was towering over one of the women who had chosen to refine her lance skills in the sparring grounds today.

Ingrid had invited (more like, challenged) him to spar, and Sylvain had taken her up on the offer. He wasn’t really giving her his full attention, and Ingrid likely knew that, so they were trading half-assed blows until either of them got bored. 

Not that he didn't take Ingrid seriously- she could kill him with ease, if she really wanted to- but he’d rather they have a conversation than stab each other with training lances.

Plus, he was inhabiting Felix’s body right now, and Felix’s body wasn’t used to wielding a lance. The object felt foreign in his hands- and the strain of merely blocking Ingrid’s blows was starting a nasty ache in his back. 

Sylvain wondered if Byleth was feeling the same odd sort of out-of-place feeling while she gave pointers to the tiny woman beside her. Byleth was proficient in all kinds of combat- but Sylvain’s body wasn’t. Was she having trouble moving like she was used to?

The woman beside her didn’t seem to mind, shuffling closer to the professor, tilting her head to face her, batting her eyelashes in an unabashedly flirtatious manner that _ Sylvain _ knew well, but the professor was likely unused to. 

“I think women like her more than me in my body,” Sylvain pouted, making another jab in Ingrid’s direction. Ingrid easily dodged the blow, and she smacked him in the side with a blow in return for good measure.

“I _ know _ women like her more than you- and it’s got nothing to do with your body, Gautier,” Ingrid huffed, a frown pulling at her lips. 

Sylvain shrugged, unperturbed by his childhood friend’s opinion of him, and continued pretending like he was interested in their spar.

“Don’t you ever think about settling down?” Ingrid wondered. 

“‘Course I do,” Sylvain assured her. “My dad’ll decide my youthful frolicking days are over, and he’ll decide upon a bride for me instead of waiting for me to pick one. Simple as that.” 

“And you’re… okay with that?” Ingrid wondered, arching an eyebrow in his direction. “If it were me- and you know my father, you _ know _ I know what I’m talking about- I’d want to choose at least that much of my future for myself.” 

“Those are the cards I’ve been dealt,” Sylvain shrugged her concern off, as flippant as usual on these matters. 

Ingrid wasn’t having it.

Hand over hand, in an unnecessarily showy display of skill, she maneuvered her lance just so and not only disarmed Sylvain, but backed him up against the wall with the tip of her training lance to his throat.

“Don’t blow me off as if I can’t tell you’re lying through your teeth- even if you’re in Felix’s body, that doesn’t change that I’ve known you so long that I watched you learn how to lie.” She hissed. “You can honestly say you’ve never thought about spending your life with someone? Anyone at all?”

Being Felix’s height was no good for Sylvain’s ability to lie. It was _ much _ harder to avoid someone’s eyes when they weren’t at chin height anymore. 

Ingrid _ must’ve _seen the wistful look that flashed in his eyes, however brief it might’ve been, because she stepped back in honest surprise, releasing him from his damning spot against the wall. 

“Nah, never,” Sylvain lied through his teeth, smiling as brightly as he could. 

“Right,” Ingrid mumbled. The suspicion on her face told Sylvain she didn’t believe him one bit.

If she’d caught on to even a _ fraction _ of the desires Sylvain kept locked away in his heart, then he didn’t blame her for not believing him. 

He’d do _ anything _ to stay by Felix and Byleth’s sides for the rest of the time he spent on this earth, but he knew that was only a fantasy. His father had high expectations of him, regardless of the reputation Sylvain had done his best to attain. Whether Sylvain liked it or not, he would be the next head of the Gautier line, and he would marry some noble chick his father cherry-picked for him to carry on that line. That’s what his future had always been, war against evil immortal mole people or not.

His time here at Garreg Mach, however much of it he had left, would be the closest he could get to living that dream.

\---

“Raphael,” Felix shouted across the green, hurrying on short (even shorter than usual) legs to catch up to the gentle giant.

Thankfully, Raphael heard him and stopped and waited until Felix reached his side. 

“Whatcha need?” The physical embodiment of the sun asked with a blindingly bright smile.

Felix squinted and looked away. “Have you seen the professor? I need to speak with her.” 

Raphael put a finger to his chin and hummed, running through whatever information he stored in that one brain cell of his. “I think she’s in the infirmary. That’s where she always is, isn’t it? Since she’s basically the best healer we have,” he mused, tapping his chin along with the cadence of his sentences.

Felix squinted harder at the grass beneath his feet, trying to figure out what the hell Raphael meant by that. Byleth was a mediocre healer at best- and she’d never say it out loud, but Felix could tell that her lack of talent in that area frustrated her to no end.

“Not Manuela,” Felix finally figured out the problem, tapping one foot impatiently against the ground. “Byleth. I’m looking for Byleth.” 

Raphael didn’t respond right away, so Felix chanced a glance up at the sun again. 

“You… _ are _ Byleth,” Raphael informed him, forehead creased in obvious bewilderment.

Felix let out a long, put-upon sigh. _Of course it couldn't be that easy. _“Fine. Where is Sylvain.” 

Raphael lit up again, excited to be able to help, and Felix had to look away before his corneas were seared any further. 

“I just saw him! I passed by him in the dining hall and said hello!” Raphael said, looking all the world like he’d solved the greatest mystery of all time. “He said he was headed to the antechamber. Though I don’t really know why he’d go there, since that’s where the big important church people hang out, but-”

“Thank you, Raphael,” Felix cut him off, bowing his head in thanks. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Sure thing, professor!” Raphael saluted as Felix started off towards the stairs at a healthy clip.

\---

Thankfully, Felix found Byleth in the antechamber, not Sylvain. 

Well, he found Sylvain, not Felix. 

_ Seiros above, for the sake of his own sanity, this spell needed to wear off sooner rather than later. _

“Felix,” Byleth said as soon as she caught sight of him, “Everything alright?” 

“_No,_” Felix hissed, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her over to a quiet corner of the grand room. Or, at least, he tried to drag her- dragging Sylvain never worked in his favor, considering how much taller he was than Felix. (Thankfully, Byleth’s heeled boots put her right at the height Felix was used to functioning at, so he didn’t have much trouble adjusting to that part of this insane body swap.) 

“What’s wrong?” Byleth wondered, laying a large hand on his shoulder. “Is your back hurting again?” 

Felix grimaced. _ Yes, it was, but that wasn’t why he’d come by. _

“It’s not that,” he insisted, reaching up to circle his fingers around her wrist, “It’s something else.” 

Byleth, ever a woman of few words, merely lifted an eyebrow in response, waiting for the final verdict. 

“Is _ staring at your tits _ the only thing the people around you are capable of?!” Felix shouted as quietly as possible, equal parts mortified and upset by the revelation.

Byleth cocked her head to the side, allowing auburn curls to fall across her forehead while she contemplated an answer.

“It does seem to be high on the list of priorities around here.” She finally conceded. 

_ This _ was one of the things that had always bothered Felix about Byleth. 

It was like… no matter what people said about her or did around her, it never got under her skin. Nothing bothered her. _ Nothing_. 

Absolutely bewildered by her lack of response, all Felix could think to say was, “You don’t have a problem with that?” 

Byleth shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to it.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” He grumbled, hiking his breastplate up as high as he could manage it. “It’s invasive. And disrespectful.”

“As long as my orders are followed on the battlefield and my voice is heard in council, I don’t see reason to discourage it.” She informed him, as stoic and steadfast as ever. 

Felix’s patience had run out. He reached up and snatched the collar poking out of Sylvain’s usual armor and yanked Byleth’s face down to be even with his. 

“You may not mind it, but _ I do._” Felix insisted hotly, his fist white knuckled beneath Byleth’s chin, “_No one _ has the right to look at you like a piece of meat. The next person that tries will see the business end of my sword.”

Having said his piece, Felix released her and let his hand fall back to his side. However, Byleth didn’t straighten back to her full height. Instead, she reached around him to cup the back of his head and pull him forward- and Felix found lips against his before he even registered the touch. 

Felix didn’t mind the kiss- there wasn’t anybody around, and he’d never been pious anyways, so there was no feeling of holy eyes watching his every move in here. He surged up onto his toes to kiss her back, but she pulled away before he could reciprocate.

“What was that for?” Felix wondered as he rocked back onto his heels. 

Byleth hid a smile behind Sylvain’s large hands. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you,” she murmured under her breath, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. 

“Tell me!” Felix demanded, stepping forward far enough that their armor clanked against each other.

Sylvain’s familiar touch caressed his cheek, and Byleth let out a happy little sigh.

“I never have to wonder how much you love me.” Byleth murmured into the space between them. “You tell me every day.” 

Felix’s cheeks _ blazed _ red, a feverish heat consuming his entire face in mere seconds. 

_ Just because you love differently doesn’t mean you don’t love at all. _

Above him, Byleth cleared her throat, and Felix looked up to find a blush coloring her cheeks as well. 

“Let’s continue talking in my office,” she invited, stepping out to the side to lead the way, “Maybe I can prevent you from skewering someone for a little while longer.” 

Felix couldn’t argue with that logic, so he followed her dutifully down the hallways until they turned the corner into her office. And as much as he’d been loath to complain about his back, that didn’t stop him from making a beeline to one of the comfy chairs and sinking into it with a sigh.

“Ah, Sylvain,” he heard Sylvain’s voice say- which was odd all in of itself. “What brings you to my office?” 

“Just came to check in on you,” came Felix’s own voice- though he almost didn’t recognize it, what with the playful lilt it seemed to have taken on with Sylvain using it. 

“Perfect,” Byleth replied, “Come in. Shut the door behind you.” 

Felix sat up in his chair at that last command, his interest sparked. Sylvain also seemed to catch on, because after the door closed, Felix heard the soft _ thunk _ of the lock being engaged as well.

“Something up?” Sylvain wondered, taking a seat in the chair next to Felix. 

Byleth wandered along the bookshelves lining the walls, as if looking for something in particular, but when she turned her head to look at them, her eyes had that thousand-mile stare in them instead. 

“Yes,” she answered after a beat. “Something is up.” 

“Professor-” Felix began.

“I thought I formally requested that you call me by name,” Byleth interrupted the swordsman, turning to face Felix as she reprimanded him. 

“You’re so clever,” Sylvain snickered as soon as she turned- and this mirthful smirk looked _ much _ more at home on Felix’s face than the earlier sappy smile. “Something is indeed _ up_.” 

Felix’s eyes- midway through rolling in exasperation- cut down to Byleth’s codpiece. 

Or, well, the lack thereof, since Sylvain, a cavalry unit, didn’t wear one. 

Which was nice in moments like these, because Felix could make out the full length of Sylvain’s cock where it throbbed against his trousers.

“I _ can’t _walk around like this,” Byleth complained, glancing down between her legs. 

“You don’t have to,” Sylvain assured her. He cocked his head towards her desk and added, “Sit.” 

Byleth gratefully followed instructions and perched on the edge of her desk, legs splayed wide and the tent in her pants on full display. 

“Tell me, Byleth,” Sylvain piped up, “Have you tried touching yourself yet?” 

Byleth’s head swiveled up, meeting Sylvain’s eyes instead of staring at the erection between her legs. “No,” she admitted, “I haven’t had time.” 

“Go on, then,” Felix urged her with a tilt of his chin. 

In Sylvain’s body, it was a little easier to read Byleth’s emotions. Felix could tell by the way her eyebrows furrowed as she reached down to undo her trousers and by the bead of sweat that rolled down her temple as she pulled her cock from her smalls that being the center of attention was making her nervous. 

The unsteady grip she formed around the base told him that she didn’t quite know how to proceed. 

“You’ve given a handjob before,” Felix scoffed, arching an eyebrow in her direction.

“It was never mine,” Byleth breathed, watching fluid bead at the tip and roll down the side until it connected with her knuckles.

She gave herself a stroke and let out a low moan, something tentative and shaky that rattled through her onlookers’ bones. 

“That’s it,” Sylvain murmured, palming over the front of his own trousers, “Tighter, now,” 

The two men watched as thick fingers tightened around a thick cock, and the two simultaneously wet their lips as another bead of precome leaked from the tip, swallowing down the hushed sounds that fell from Byleth’s lips as she found a comfortable rhythm. 

“How does it feel?” Felix spoke up, barely louder than the hushed sound of skin against skin. 

“_Good_,” Byleth groaned, tipping her head back in bliss as she experimented with a twist of the wrist on the upstroke. 

The sound of Sylvain’s low timbre, the knowledge that it was Byleth crying out, the knowledge that Byleth had never felt anything like this _ ever _ before- it set a fire in Felix’s core. 

The feeling of desire pooling liquid hot in his stomach was something he was familiar with, but this internal _ ache_, the throb of what had to be his clit between his legs… it was driving him _ nuts_. 

He couldn’t just _ sit _there.

Byleth didn’t notice when he fell to his knees in front of her, but she did gasp at the pressure of his gloved hand on her thigh. 

“Let me help,” he murmured, eye level with a very, _ very _ familiar cock. Byleth hissed out a breath between her teeth when soft lips pressed to the vein on the underside of her cock. “Since you’re still learning, and all,” he added, sliding his tongue up the length of her until he could lap up the precome dripping from the tip.

Clearly grasping for some kind of control, Byleth’s hand slid into his hair and curled into a fist, holding him close- as if he had any plans of pulling away. 

“Make room, make room,” Sylvain nudged Felix to the side, spreading Byleth’s legs even further apart as he settled in between them as well. “Can’t let you two have all the fun.” 

Felix glared at Sylvain (at _ himself?? _ ) as he was pushed halfway off of Byleth’s cock, but he didn’t push Sylvain away- not a _ chance_. If Byleth was overwhelmed by her own hand, Felix couldn’t _ wait _ to see how she’d react to not one, but _ two _ mouths on her at a time. 

And she did not disappoint. 

It became a game between the two men to push Byleth’s buttons until her grip went white knuckled against the edge of the desk she sat on. Suckling at sensitive skin, tonguing at the veins that pulsed under their attentions, slurping up the precome that pulsed from the tip with every twitch and cant of her hips- the two men knew exactly what it would take to make a scene, and _ Serios above _ were they looking for one. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you so _ mouthy _ before,” Sylvain chuckled as Byleth’s chest heaved beneath her armor, but he couldn’t deny how much tighter his pants got every time she whimpered or groaned. 

“Can’t- can’t help it,” she rasped, shuddering as someone squeezed her balls, rolling them between their fingers. “Never felt anything like this before.” 

She raised a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan when Felix sucked the tip of her cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head and pulling off with a lewd _ pop! _

“Plus,” the swordswoman added, muffled between her fingers, “It’s hard to keep my head on straight with Felix humping my shoe.”

Caught, Felix burned bright red, green eyes widening in embarrassment. 

“I can’t help it!” He squawked, bumping his cheek against her thigh in a silent tantrum. “It- it’s _ throbbing_, and _ slick_, and- it’s _ maddening!_” 

“Aw, Fee,” Sylvain’s lips pulled into a lecherous smile. “Does your sloppy cunt need to be stuffed full with some dick?” He teased as he slipped a hand between Byleth’s boot and Felix’s shorts to rub at what he _ knew _ was Felix’s sensitive clit.

It looked like Felix had half a mind to bite back, but when Sylvain’s long fingers rubbed just right against the cleft between his legs, he tossed the retort out in favor of a sigh and slumped heavily against Byleth’s calf. 

“Let’s-” Byleth swallowed hard, amber eyes dark with lust and fixated on the show between her legs, “Let’s switch tactics.” 

\---

Byleth was more than happy to shed the layers of Sylvain’s armor- the man dressed like he was always ready to fight in the cold winters of Faerghus, even though it rarely snowed at Garreg Mach.

“I don’t understand why you have so many belts and straps and all these-” Sylvain cursed at the boot he was fiddling with, nearly upside down in his chair in his struggle to take it off, “_buckles!_”

“Sorry that my _ armor _ isn’t designed to be taken off easily,” Felix snapped back, “I’m really not thinking about my dick while someone’s swinging a _ weapon _ at me.”

“Now, now, boys,” Byleth said with a smile as she helped Felix undo the straps of his breastplate, “Focus on the task at hand.” 

A couple moments later, Felix’s breastplate clattered to the floor, and Sylvain cheered as he finally unbuckled his boots. Next came Felix’s shorts and stockings, then Sylvain’s three layers of shirts, then Byleth’s pants- and, before long, the three finally hooked eager fingers into the waistbands of their smalls and yanked them off, tossing them into their respective piles of belongings. 

“Now,” Byleth hummed- and Felix yelped in surprise as large hands lifted him by his waist, swung him around, and deposited him on Byleth’s desk. “Where were we?” She mused, a toothy grin peeking out of her usually blank facade. 

Felix squeaked as Byleth bent low, large hands sliding up his sides and spanning over the bulk of the weight of his breasts and squishing them between thick fingers. She hadn’t shaved- likely because she didn’t quite know how- so Sylvain’s stubble grazed across the sensitive skin of his chest before Byleth licked a long stripe up his sternum. 

“H-holy _ shit_,” Felix gasped, his back arching up into Byleth’s touch. “This is _ insane-_” he choked out, words piling to a stop in his throat after the barest brush of thumbs over steadily hardening nipples. 

“A little more sensitive than usual, huh?” Byleth rumbled against him, the low timbre of Sylvain’s voice rattling Felix’s ribs. 

Felix barely managed to nod before pleasure shot up his spine- and the steady roll of her fingers over his nipples sent him to thrashing helplessly beneath her. 

“Is it worth the back pain?” Sylvain piped up from where he was rummaging around in the professor’s desk. Byleth had sworn up and down that she'd left a bottle of oil in there somewhere, but it was up to Sylvain to find it.

“I mean- you know,” Felix managed between panting breaths, “It very well might be.” 

Amber eyes twinkled up at him from where Byleth was busy sucking a hickey into the side of one of her own breasts. “Tell me how you like this, then,” Byleth offered- and as soon as her mouth sealed around one reddened bud, Felix’s back nearly arched all the way off the desk he was laid on top of. 

The slick heat of her mouth was one thing, but every pass of her tongue made his clit throb, every graze of her teeth made his stomach tumble and flip, and when she _ sucked _ against him?

“_Oh-_” Felix cried, tangling a hand in sunset red waves in an attempt to anchor himself, “Okay, alright,” he muttered, cheeks flushing red as the warmth tumbling around inside him spilled onto his thighs. 

Byleth was _ way _ ahead of him. 

Almost as soon as Sylvain made a triumphant noise, heralding the discovery of the lube, a calloused finger descended upon Felix’s pulsing clit. 

“_Sothis above-_” Felix cried, banging his head against the desk as he arched back yet again, “Byleth- By, I think- I think I’m gonna-”

Sylvain hopped on top of the desk, peering down at Felix’s face while Byleth suckled on reddened teats and rubbed circles against a sopping clit. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Sylvain simpered down at the swordsman writhing beneath them, reaching out to wipe away the tears that had formed at the corners of spring green eyes. 

“It _ is _ that bad,” Felix insisted, desperately humping into thin air, “I need- I need _ something_,”

“You need something inside you,” Byleth murmured, releasing one nipple with a click in order to speak. “Be patient. We'll get there, but not yet.” 

“No!” Felix huffed- as bratty as ever. “_Please!_” 

Sylvain’s eyes lit up in glee, pleased with the crack in Felix’s demeanor. “Whipping out the niceties early, are we?” 

“Won’t do you any good,” Byleth assured him, nosing across his skin to the side she hadn’t treated yet. 

As she sucked his nipple back into her mouth, Sylvain leaned over and pinched the rosy bud she’d just left. Felix whimpered, bright red and panting, so Sylvain took that as a sign to go ahead and do that again.

One, two, three more pinches, and Felix’s eyes snapped open. 

“What the _ fuck_, _ what the fuck-_” he stammered. His hands balled into fists by his sides as the dam finally broke, and his two lovers sat back to watch every muscle in Felix’s body tense and quiver before finally laying him out, boneless, onto the desk once more. 

With one last whispered _ what the fuck _ and a muted _ plonk _ as his head hit the desk, Felix shuddered through the last few waves of his orgasm.

“Good job,” Byleth hummed, pleased. “Ready for round two?” 

“I think,” Felix panted, eyes glazed over and nearly rolled back in his head, “I think you’re going to kill me.”

“Death by orgasm,” Sylvain mused as he popped open the bottle of oil and slicked his first two fingers up, “Doesn’t sound like a bad way to go.”

“Better than _ for honor _ or some bullshit like that,” Felix agreed. 

He laid still while Byleth arranged his limbs about, letting her move him as she pleased. The first reaction she got out of him was a full body twitch when the head of her dick grazed against his oversensitive clit as she slung his legs over her hips. 

“Your hips are narrow,” Byleth said to Sylvain as Felix’s knee slipped off of her hip not once, not twice, but three times before the swordsman finally gathered enough brain cells to lock his legs around her waist. “How do you carry things?” 

Sylvain let out a bark of a laugh, amused. “With my _ arms_.” 

Felix, still coming around, did not understand why Byleth hummed and nodded as if that response answered her odd question _ at all_, but with the stiff heat of a dick teasing his folds with the promise of fullness, he refused to bring it up and sidetrack them any longer. 

“I don’t think this should be a problem- since it _ is _ my body, after all- but, just in case, let’s get you nice and distracted, first,” Sylvain instructed, placing spindly fingers on the small of Byleth’s back to bend her over enough to expose her ass and taint to his eager eyes. 

(Sylvain was long past being torn over whether or not to be attracted to his own body. It was _ Byleth _ in there, and if giving _ herself _ a measly handjob was enough to wreck her, then he could not _ wait _ to get her going from both ends.)

(Plus, this was _ his body_. He knew _ exactly _ where his prostate was, and he knew _ exactly _ what he liked to feel. Byleth was in for a treat, tonight.)

“Goddess, Felix, you’re _ drenched,_” Byleth whispered, canting her hips back and forth to slide lewdly in between his folds. 

“Please,” Felix whined, blindly grabbing at Byleth’s hips and pulling, trying to encourage her forwards. “Please get inside me.”

“Damn,” Sylvain whistled lowly, impressed by how far gone Felix was already. “I’m going to miss being body swapped after all.” 

Byleth agreed with a grunt.

Or maybe the grunt was because she’d finally lined up to Felix’s desperate, winking hole and pushed in?

Felix keened into the hushed silence of Byleth’s office, legs seizing around her waist to try and push her in farther. “More- _ more!_”

“_Give me a second,_” Byleth hissed. Her hands, resting on either side of Felix’s body, had curled into tight fists, and her eyes had screwed shut in concentration. 

“What’s wrong, By?” Sylvain wondered, grinning cheekily at the two fingers he’d worked into her ass, “Too much of a good thing?”

Byleth responded with a jerky thrust, pushing to the hilt inside of Felix and prompting Sylvain to spread his fingers wide to scissor her open further. 

“I can take it.” She insisted- but Sylvain could see how red her ears (his ears) were. The pleasure was starting to go to her head. 

“C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon,” Felix groaned, practically writhing underneath Byleth now that she was fully sheathed inside of him. He reached up to grip her biceps, pulling on her, but to little avail.

Byleth took a deep breath, slid her hands down to circle Felix’s waist (in the way that only Sylvain’s hands could span around her body), and shook loose the last of her inhibitions.

She gave Felix a couple slow grinds to begin with, letting him get familiar with the new places lighting up in pleasure inside of him. Then, just as his fingers began to go slack against her arms, she picked up the pace, kicking her hips up to hit that spot _ that spot _ that she knew would drive him wild. 

(It did.)

Felix had to let go of her to stuff his knuckles in his mouth, muffling the howls that kept tearing from his throat every time the head of Byleth’s cock slammed into that aching spot deep inside him. (Sometimes she would miss and slam into something _ else_, something that fucking _ hurt_, but she seemed to notice whenever his face scrunched up in pain. The more time that passed, the less jolts of pain he felt.)

Not to mention whatever that was that she kept grinding against just inside his channel- he _ knew _ that spot, he knew Byleth liked it when he made a point to rub there with his fingers, but he didn’t know it was like _ this, _ like _ fire _ pooling in his belly, an explosion bubbling and boiling, just waiting to burst-

“_Seiros-_” Byleth choked out, amber eyes wide, “Sylvain, you- _ fuck_, that’s nice,” she moaned, dropping her head down to rest between Felix’s breasts. 

With Byleth’s broad shoulders out of the way, Felix could see- well, he could see his own face grinning back at him. He could also see his own hips driving into Byleth’s (Sylvain’s?) ass, interrupting the steady rhythm she’d set thus far. 

“Alright,” Byleth mumbled, just barely audible beneath Felix’s chin, “We’re going to have to speed this up.”

“Speed this up?!” Felix cried, concerned. “What on _ earth _ would that- _ oh- oh- okay,_” he quickly dispensed of unnecessary questions and tangled his fingers into auburn curls as Byleth brought back her earlier strategy, lapping and sucking at swollen buds and bringing one hand down to toy with his clit. 

Almost _ immediately_, Felix felt the telltale sparkles of orgasm, the same twinging spasms that had preceded the rippling pleasure that tore through him before.

He opened his mouth to alert her, but a well timed thrust from Sylvain kicked Byleth’s length even deeper within Felix than before, striking something that pushed him straight over the edge. All he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish out of water while his insides rippled and squeezed around heavy, warm, and _ hard_, the sensation of being stretched around Byleth’s cock making the pleasure almost too overwhelming to bear.

He tried to bat Byleth’s hand away from his pulsing clit, the searing pleasure nearly translating as _ pain _ at this point, but she wouldn’t let up.

If anything, the rhythm of her thrusts picked up tenfold, drilling him into the desk where he laid, pinning him like a butterfly, at the whim of her desires. She lifted her head from one abused nipple to hover over him, and in the brief moment that they made eye contact before Byleth leaned down to seal her lips over his, Felix _ knew_.

The hot splash of seed within him didn’t come as a surprise at all. 

Byleth’s whimpering groans, muffled into his mouth while he sucked lazily against her tongue, now _ that _ was new.

“So soon, professor?” Sylvain teased. “Oh, but I’m not done yet… You don’t mind if I use you to finish, do you?” 

The question didn’t warrant an answer, especially since Byleth was too busy kissing Felix to respond. 

“Perfect,” Sylvain sighed, grinning like a fox. 

The thing about Felix’s body was that… he was _ built _ for quick, sharp movements. Sylvain was too bulky to be limber and light on his feet, but Felix was lithe- _ and _ trained as a swordsman. Everything _ about _ him screamed technique at the speed of light. 

Even so, Sylvain was surprised at the speed at which he was able to rabbit his hips against Byleth’s sagging frame.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Fee!” The cavalier managed between puffs of breath. “Where’s this speed been hiding?” 

Felix did not respond. 

In his defense, Sylvain’s manic thrusts were kicking Byleth’s weight up against his, forcing her hips to thrust that deliciously thick cock (which was still hard! goddamn that insatiable man and his insatiable dick) into Felix’s abused cunt all over again. 

What with Byleth plastered to Felix’s chest, her weight had shifted enough that she ground against Felix’s clit with every thrust forwards- and with her fingers still absently toying with his swollen, puffy nipples, Felix felt the telltale pulse of orgasm rearing its head all over again.

He barely had the energy to open his mouth to moan when this one took hold of him- especially not while he could feel his guts being rearranged by the echoes of Sylvain’s desperate thrusts. Every push of Byleth’s cock into his cunt, engorged and swollen from _ three _ orgasms, nudged against spots that sang of soreness and pleasure alike.

“I- ahh, _ hah,_” Byleth said elegantly, panting into Felix’s neck, “_Sylvain, _ I don’t think I can-”

“Oh, c’mon, professor,” Sylvain murmured through Felix’s sharp smile, “I know you’ve got another one in you. You can do it.” 

“_Can’t,_” Byleth rasped, fingers curling and uncurling into the plush give of Felix’s chest. 

“Here, I’ll give you a little help,” Sylvain offered, ever so graciously.

The shift of his hips made Byleth’s head pop up from where it had been resting on Felix’s shoulder. Her lips curled into a perfect little _ o_, and the _ whine _ that tore from her lips was _ obscene. _ Felix tangled tired fingers into her hair to drag her back down to kiss him before she alerted the whole goddessdamned _ monastery _ that they were fucking in her office. 

“That’s it,” Sylvain praised- and if it wasn’t for the scrunch of his eyebrows, Felix wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was close to coming as well.

(Felix wondered if his own face was always this unreadable. All the better, he figured.)

(He had to admit, with the way his hair fell across muscled shoulders, the cut of his jaw, and the rosy pink tint to his cheeks and lips from all the lip biting and effort Sylvain was putting into fucking Byleth… Maybe Sylvain was right. Felix _ was _ pretty attractive. He certainly had his moments.)

“That’s it, that’s it,” Sylvain started up again, “Wanna feel you clench around me when you come, sweet thing, want you to pump Felix so full of cum that it spills out of him, wanna-” 

“_Shut up!_” Felix screeched. “That’s _ my voice _ you’re using to spout your filthy nonsense-”

Sylvain was _ way _ too far gone to stop his near-orgasm-rambling, _ especially _ when Byleth shuddered and did exactly as he’d wished. 

“_Goddess_, By, feels so good- you feel so good- _ fuck, _ you’re so good,” Sylvain babbled into the muscles of her (his own) back, completely overtaken by the searing, velvet heat pulsing around his _ very sensitive dick. _

(The way he was going to blow Felix when he got back into his own body now that he knew the ins and out of his silly little repressed swordsman’s dick…)

His toes curled as his orgasm finally overtook him, and- with an undignified groan that he was definitely blaming on Felix’s voicebox- Sylvain let the waves of pleasure pull him under, lulling him into a pleasant haze.

He let out a pleased little noise under his breath and nuzzled closer into the body underneath him- the need for post-orgasm snuggles taking over him almost immediately. Plus, Byleth’s breasts were just so soft, it was so easy to drift off with one of them nestled in his palm, right where it belonged…

_ wait _

_but he was-_

_was he-?_

“_Serios _ fucking almighty-” Felix hissed- and Sylvain winced as the swordsman’s softening dick slid from his ass, letting the cum he’d deposited there spill free. “You did _ not _ have to put every ounce of my strength into fucking _ yourself_, you big oaf.” 

“So,” Sylvain strung out the vowel, still chewing on the realization, “I take it that means _ everyone _ is back in their own bodies?”

He lifted his head to peer down at the woman beneath him, and without her even saying a word, Sylvain knew Byleth was back where she should be. 

(Felix’s eyes just didn’t hold the same vacancy as Byleth’s. It had actually been a little disconcerting to be able to see the gears turning in her head all the time, even if it was Felix’s consciousness in her body.)

“Tell me you keep rags or something of the sort around here,” Felix pleaded, stepping back from Sylvain’s messy thighs to survey the room. “I am _ not _ getting back into my clothing like this.”

Sylvain moved to stand as well, but Felix stopped him in his tracks with a stiff hand on his shoulder. 

“_Don’t. Move.” _ The swordsman intoned. “Your stupid body unloaded _ ungodly _ amounts of cum into poor Byleth _ twice_. For the sake of her office, wait until I find a fucking towel.” 

Sylvain shrugged. _ Fair enough. _

(Plus, Felix had unknowingly given Sylvain the perfect excuse to just lay there and cuddle with one of the loves of his life for a couple minutes longer.)

\---

Luckily- like, the gods were watching kind of luck- they managed to get all cleaned up _ and _ redressed before anyone came looking for them. They even had time to open the office doors, let the room air out a little so that it didn’t reek of sweat and sex.

It was Annette that stopped by Byleth’s office, _ just _ as Felix had readjusted his sword belt one last time before heading out. 

“Oh!” She cried upon seeing the three of them in one room, “Perfect! I was coming to tell the professor, but you two should hear this too.” 

As the redhead situated herself in one of Byleth’s big comfy chairs, the three other occupants of the room stood nearby in wait of the news. 

“So, I’ve been pouring over that tome we found _ nonstop_, because I feel _ so bad _about what happened,” Annette began, already doing that fluttering thing with her hands that told everyone nearby that she was embarrassed, “And after becoming a little more familiar with the dialect, I think I figured out what went wrong! I can definitely do the spell correctly the next time that I cast it.” 

“That’s wonderful, Annette,” Byleth began, but Annette shook her head, pausing the praise.

“That’s not what I came here to tell you!” She insisted. “What’s _ more _ important is that I think I figured out how to reverse any undue side effects of the spell! But I, uh…” suddenly, Annette’s cheeks pinked, and she lost the ability to maintain eye contact with the three of them. “I might still be translating it wrong, because it’s… it’s kinda _ weird_,” 

“What did it say?” Felix demanded. 

Annette talked herself in circles for a few minutes, avoiding the question as long as possible before eventually, _ finally _ getting down to it. 

“And, while the translation isn’t _ direct_, I’m thinking the nearest synonym is something like… intercourse?” She squeaked out after an embarrassed pause, refusing to lift her gaze from the floor while she spoke. 

“Interesting.” 

Felix was the first to break the silence. 

While Byleth and Sylvain shot him a pointed glare, some of the tension in Annette’s shoulders relaxed. 

“Of _ course _ you would say that, Sylvain,” the mage huffed, rolling her eyes as she stood up from her seat. “Don’t get your hopes up too high about your chances with the professor- the spell should probably wear off by tomorrow, anyways.” 

“Right,” Byleth spoke up- and, before either of her well-meaning lovers could clarify otherwise, she schooled her expression into one of the best Felix impressions either of them had ever seen. “There’s no way in hell I’ll let you anywhere near me.” 

Annette laughed and bid them good luck and goodbye, and she thanked them for their time before rushing off to catch a lecture that Dorothea was holding on Faith magic. 

“Manwhore,” Byleth added thoughtfully with a decisive nod. 

Felix couldn’t stand it anymore- he broke as soon as Annette’s footsteps faded out of hearing range, laughing into his glove like he hadn’t laughed in a long time. 

“You’re so mean to meeeee,” Sylvain whined, draping his arms around Felix’s neck, “Tell me you love meeee,” he pleaded, pressing kisses to the giggling swordsman’s cheek. “C’mooooonnn,” the taller man shuffled closer and closer, crowding Felix up against Byleth’s chest until the shorter man was sandwiched between them. 

While the two men bickered and pretended to fight, Byleth couldn’t help but think how _ glad _ she was that _ Annette _ wasn’t the first person to find out the three of them were fucking. The whole _ monastery _ would know by the next day- and the entire nation of Fodlan by the end of the week.

And while Byleth had no qualms owning up to their relationship, had no shame in continuing their relationship once it had gone public, she knew that their relationship’s future contained certain… obstacles.

(She’d refrained from using Sothis’s powers to peer into the possible futures and plan accordingly. It didn’t feel right, in this case.)

She knew that Fodlan’s more conservative minds would have a genuine conniption fit upon receiving the news. Even the more progressive circles of Fodlan might have a hard time understanding how their relationship worked- not that it was anyone’s business, but Byleth understood Fodlan’s politics well enough to know they would make it their business, regardless. 

Even her own father never would’ve seen this coming. (She doubted he’d be _ against _ it, but he’d certainly be _ surprised_.)

The ring she kept on her at all times was proof enough of that. 

One ring. 

Just the one. 

Not to mention, Sylvain and Felix’s _ parents_. 

The Gautier’s would have something to say about it. She’s not sure if they’d force Sylvain to break ties with them- since their whole thing, from what she could gather from Sylvain, was to raise him as the head of the Gautier estate and eventually have him sire a child to take _ his _ place, one day. She doesn’t think his parents would argue too much if the potential of the Gautier heir sharing the _ archbishop’s _ bloodline hung in the balance. 

Now, _ Felix’s _ father… Byleth honestly had no idea what his reaction would be. Rodrigue seemed to want the best for Felix, no matter what, even if Felix hated every minute of his kindness. Plus, from what she’s heard from Ingrid, Rodrigue never searched for a bride for Felix, even after Glenn died. 

Maybe Rodrigue knew that his son was a hopeless basket case, a basket case that guarded his heart very closely and loved very fiercely. A basket case that was very _ picky _ with his choice of lovers. 

So picky, in fact, that he’d only ever fallen for two people.

Luckily for him, they love him back. 

And Byleth would spend every day watching Felix and Sylvain pretend to fight if it meant the three of them could be together in peace.

(Sylvain’s whining was eventually silenced with a kiss- even if Felix grabbed him by the face and squashed his cheeks to do it.)

(The whining started up again as soon as Felix turned to give Byleth a much nicer, much _ gentler _ kiss.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kinda long- mostly because I started chattering about Sylvain and Byleth's futures again, pouring that angst and uncertainty in there for u guys to gobble up :) Also it was just TOO MUCH FUN to play with each of them in the other's bodies and everyone at the monastery's reactions to that :D 
> 
> Thank you guys for being so so so patient with me as I clawed and kicked and scratched my way to the finish line for this fic. I think I've got one or two more additions to this series before I can call it completed!
> 
> As always, hit me up on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iridescentai) or my [Tumblr](https://iridescentai.tumblr.com)!! Especially since I've been itching to draw these three body swapped 😈😈😈


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